Brighton Beach Memories
by FollyofDucks
Summary: An adventure with Caroline set four years in the future. Complete.
1. At the Car Wash

Rhinestone Cowboy: Hello everyone. Glad to be writing LTIH again. Been stuck for a couple weeks tying up the ends of a novel, so I sat down to free write and Caroline appeared. Then I emailed Nola and asked if she wanted to jump in and co-pilot.

Why publish again after leaving the site? It's good for my writing. The Imagined experience was educational, motivational, and inspirational. On the site you cannot dwell on revision, only move forward. You must keep up a certain pace to keep the story engaging, and you have a strong incentive to finish. All in all a good break from publishing-focused outcomes. Same premise as the National Novel Writing Month project.

I will not republish Caroline and Eleanor. As my first real writing venture and Eleanor my first wholly original, fully developed character, she, they, and the work itself are raw, vulnerable bits of my soul. I'd rather not put that back out there on the internets.

If you are made uncomfortable by the warning flag that I published on the site, which I leave up as a cautionary tale for new readers that I hope the site continues to attract, that's your business and you don't have to read anything I ever write. If you're so totally over everything and all of it completely, same thing. If you just aren't into Caroline stories without Kate, I'm sorry that I can't write for you but I wish you many happy reading adventures.

Excited to be collaborating with Dis Moi / Nolathree on this venture. Peace and popsicles, y'all.

Nolathree: Thrilled to be on this little writing venture with RSC, particularly since I just concluded writing _Caroline's Holiday in NYC_ as Dis-Moi, and was looking for a new writing project _._ I suspect some of you figured out early on in _Holiday_ who I really was but were kind enough to let it hit the floor and suffered with me as I tried to strengthen my creative writing muscles. Hope y'all enjoy this little tale.

* * *

 _Swish swish swish._

Back and forth, back and forth, back and forth.

 _Swish swish swish._

Thin blue strips whipping and foaming, back and forth across the storm grey hood of the Jeep.

 _Whirrrr. Thump. Clunk._

The tunnel around Caroline and the Jeep retreated, whirred and clunked, and moved back over her again. The final, gentle rain wash tickled the entire car with sound and tiny splashes on the windshield. The promise of a SPOT FREE RINSE flashed along the lit bar overhead.

Black blowers roared to life on all sides forcing the last droplets of water away with a blunt wall of air that raced up the windshield and across the sunroof. Caroline often enjoyed the rainbow of color surrounding her during the hot wax cycle and kept the cover on the sun roof pulled back - when she took the time to do meaningless things like enjoy rainbows.

She had not done so today. The rainbow came and went, dissolved and drained off in a million directions without a second glance or a second thought from Caroline. The bright show was wasted on the middle-aged, always very practical but occasionally reflective blonde inside the car wash.

She ripped back on the gearshift in the center console and the Jeep jumped forward over the chocks on the track holding it in place. She drove forward out of the low cinderblock cave into the slanting September sun. She blinked at the abrupt change in the light until she snatched her sunglasses off the dash and covered up eyes that were the same committed pale blue as the Brighton late summer sky.

Leaning forward to get a better view of the traffic whizzing by she looked left and right before trying to turn on to London Road. Zooming waves of cars stretched out in either direction, morning commute in full effect. She inched the Jeep forward and slammed on the brakes. Once, and twice again.

Hopeless. She'd try a different exit out of the lot. She tore back on the gearshift again. The transmission took its time to argue with itself and then slammed into reverse.

 _Crunch._

Caroline lunged forward into her locked safety belt and crashed back into the seat, head settled on the rest. She didn't move, but closed her eyes and evicted a substantial amount of air from her lungs. She'd backed into someone.

 _Bloody fucking hell._

Yesterday she would have shouted the words and abused the steering wheel roundly as she did so. Today they crossed her mind but not her lips.

 _Tap tap tap._

Caroline did not open her eyes.

 _Tap tap tap._

"Are you – alright – in there? Hullo?"

She did not turn to look at the man tapping with his key on her window.

"Miss. It's just that you've hit my car. I think we should – umm – we need to talk, miss."

 _Click. Whirrrrrrr._

With the window now open – it would leave spots when she rolled it back up because it hadn't had time to dry properly – Caroline could hear the busy traffic and smell the salty air. The salty air that had smothered itself all over her the Jeep and her windshield all weekend, and the reason she was at the car wash in the first place.

She leaned, head in hand, on the door. "Don't call me miss. When I was younger I hated it, and now I really do. Call me ma'am. I don't think it makes me sound old. It makes me sound like a mature woman of the world. Which I am."

She glanced up at a weasel-faced man who also had stringy weasel-colored hair combed over his balding head. He frowned at her.

Weasel-man was a business man, if his suit and tie were any indication. She looked into the rearview mirror. The patch of rust on the hood of his blue Ford Fiesta suggested he wasn't a particularly successful business man.

"Ma – ma'am? We should talk. I – I need your insurance information."

"Yes. I suppose you do."

She unwrapped the cobalt scarf that she wore frequently because it matched her eyes. She tossed it into the back seat, and leaned over to the glove compartment. She tugged at the latch. Locked.

Another massive rush of air out of her lungs. She closed her eyes again. Traffic bellowed by. A massive horn blast from what had to be a massive vehicle and a return toot from a car that could not be much larger than the Fiesta behind her.

"Hullo. Again. Are you – are you – sure - you're alright?"

Caroline closed her eyes tighter. Her eyebrows lowered and her lips drew into a line on her face and then disappeared.

"I am _fine_. Give me a minute, please."

"Well if you're not fine I want you to say something. I don't want you claiming some injury later. Not that I'd be at fault –"

"No. No you are not at fault. No way, no how, at fault, in this situation. You're completely in the clear, aren't you?"

Caroline dumped her cool exhaustion and traded it in for hot aggression. Weasel-man recoiled as her volume rose, her blond hair flew, and her hands flailed inside the car. When he opened his mouth, surprised, he revealed butter-yellow weasel teeth to match his hair. His disdain at her emotion reminded her of ex-husband John and the mock intimidation he wore when she raised her voice. Early in their relationship it had been _real_ intimidation.

The reaction of the man in front of her and the disgust that bloomed on her face led her to wonder how she'd even been attracted to a man who was afraid her words.

She held up an index finger and Weasel-man stood in place as instructed. He did not speak as she unlocked her glove box and produced the appropriate paper work.

Other drivers leaving the car wash were conspicuous in their efforts not to notice them. But Caroline noticed them as she finally got out of the car to inspect the damage and threw her door closed.

The back of her Jeep was a crumpled mess. The front of the Ford hugged it tight as though it wanted the larger car to swallow it whole. Desperate for the Jeep to transport it into an alternate dimension where its new owner would never allow rust patches to go untended.

"Well I'm going, ummm, to take some pictures. Also I was wondering if I can have your phone number just in case?"

"No, I don't think so. Just in case what? You have my insurance, it's all you'll need."

"I – but – OK."

Caroline did not know his name. To her he was Weasel-man, and he brushed a hand over his balding head and sniffed. But she ought to, because she ought to have his paperwork as well.

"I'm sorry I don't know your name yet. I'm Caroline."

The phone in the pocket of her tan herringbone jacket buzzed.

Weasel-man looked from her pocket back up to her eyes and waited.

"It's fine." Caroline crinkled her nose and her eyes and tried to look encouraging.

"I'm Dave."

"Yes, Dave, I should see your papers as well, shouldn't I?"

Weasel-man Dave made a small bow. His eyes darted to his car and back again. "I suppose – that – yes you should."

"Is there a problem with that?" Caroline stopped trying to look encouraging.

"N – no. No problem. At all."

"Goooooood."

He did not move. Caroline crossed her arms over her stomach. She stood two inches taller than he did. While he was not young enough to be her son, he had the air of a boy accustomed to being told what to do.

"Oh. I'll – I'll get them now."

" _Yes_."

Dave slunk off, casting glances over his shoulder at her.

He got in on the passenger side and closed the door. His eyes were not on his task at hand but on Caroline as he searched for what he needed.

Then his neck snapped down and Dave, in his entirety, disappeared under the dash.

Caroline tilted her head to the side.

Dave appeared again, face flushed. Caroline was forgotten as his shoulders pitched to and fro before settling.

His attention returned to Caroline and he scurried back her.

"OK – here – here it is, here you go."

"Yes – thank you." Caroline pulled her mobile from her jacket to record Dave's information.

 _Missed call - Melanie Wysocki_

She huffed and swiped to dismiss the notification. She laid Dave's papers out on the hood, careful to avoid the rust, and snapped a picture.

"OK then. Ma'am. We're – done – we're done?"

Caroline handed everything back and narrowed her eyes with a sharp, short nod at Weasel-man. "Yep."

She eyed his car again. "Can you drive that?"

"Perhaps. I don't know. I – I – can call someone."

"Might be best if you do."

"Yes – well – then."

"Well then." Caroline bent to examine her own car more closely. Crumpled mess yes, but a crumpled drivable one. At least to the nearest mechanic. All the way back to up Harrogate? Who knew.

Dave ran his hand over his head again as he walked back to his car. The Weasel-man's pace had picked up ever since Caroline asked about his paperwork. She waited for him to back up so she could inspect the damage further.

 _Click. Click click. Click click click click._

Apparently the Fiesta had met its maker at the hands of the Jeep.

Caroline's shoulders came up and she grimaced.

Her phone buzzed in her pocket.

 _Long long short. Long long short_ at her waist.

Melanie again. Caroline had flown the coop and left her at their beach-front rented flat after a nasty row. She was allegedly fetching tea and pastries, which should never take an hour. Even after a dust up.

 _'Don't be a bloody bitch. She doesn't deserve that.'_

She leaned against the spotless, wrecked Jeep and pulled out her mobile. Weasel-man could take care of his own issues.

"Hullo."

"Are you alright, Caroline?"

"Yep."

"Are you sure? Aside from our – spat – this morning? You've been gone a long time."

The sun was higher and Caroline squinted into it as she gazed up at the cloudless sky. She looked left, right, and finally rested her eyes on Weasel-man inside the Fiesta, who was also on the mobile.

"I've backed into someone."

"Oh no! You've gotten in an accident?"

"That's another way of saying I've backed into someone. Yep."

"Caroline. I'm so sorry. But you're alright? You haven't hurt yourself?" Melanie's words tumbled out in a rush, the pitch of her voice and her cadence increasing as the questions moved along.

Caroline crossed her legs and looked down at the well-worn beige-suede boots wrapped over her dark jeans. She fiddled at the collar of her white oxford button down.

"I'm fiiiiine, Melanie. I am." Laughter escaped from Caroline unbidden as Melanie's alarm and her undisguised concern, her inability to pass off any type of subterfuge, softened the edges of her anger.

"Why are you laughing?"

"Because you make me laugh."

"That's good to hear. What's happened? And you're sure you're fine?"

"Well it's a good thing to say, too." Caroline placed a hand on top of her head and wandered to where Dave now stood trying to extricate the Fiesta. "It's nothing major. It's not a big deal. And I am perfectly fine."

Dave put his hands on the hood and shoved. No give.

"One moment, Mel."

She held a hand over the mobile.

"Dave – would you like me to pull forward?"

"Uh. Umm – yes. I – I think so."

"Alright." Another index finger from Caroline.

"I need to call you back, Mel."

"Do you need me to come around and fetch you? I mean I'd have to call a car service, but I could. It wouldn't be a problem, and I'm worried about you."

"No, sweetie. Don't worry. I can get this heap to a garage and get myself back to the flat from there."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure."

Her car roared to life and seemed, at this point, no worse for the wear.

 _Screeeeeeee._

The Ford and the Jeep wailed as Caroline shifted into drive and tore them asunder.

Caroline craned her head out the window and looked back for a final time at Weasel-man Dave. He shoo'd her off.

" _Fine_ then. Away I go," she muttered sotto voce.

The traffic on London Road remained heavy, but this time Caroline found an opening and turned toward the beach. In the time between hanging up with Melanie and waving goodbye to Dave, she'd decided they'd never be making it back home to Harrogate today. And if she were going to be stuck for the morning in a greasy pit of a garage, she'd rather be stuck with Melanie suffering right alongside her.

She dialed Melanie and the light, high, lyrical sound of her voice filled the Jeep.

"All sorted?"

"I am. But I've decided we're going to suffer together this morning. Care to research nearby garages before I pick you up?"

"Yes! Absolutely! Research is my specialty, Lizzy."

"A fact you've proven over and over again, and not just by sussing my middle name embarrassingly early on into our relationship."

"Sorry. I suppose it's one of the drawbacks of dating a librarian."

"There are no drawbacks to dating a librarian, as far as I can tell."

"Oh good girl. You're sweet. But since I'll be so busy here, could you please stop and fetch tea and pastries on the way? I've really been wanting a _pan au chocolat_ since you left. And you were awfully mean to me this morning. I think it made me hungrier." Melanie was always hungry, a perpetual state of desire at war with a workplace that did not easily allow for snacking on the job.

Caroline narrowed her eyes, which had become a deeper shade of blue as she rolled toward the water and toward Melanie. She pictured the earnest want in Melanie's giant hazel-green eyes as she asked and the delight that would appear in them when Caroline produced the pastry.

"I was mean to you, wasn't I? I'm sorry."

"Yes, but I know why. I know you're not excited about summer holiday ending."

"Fine. Tea and pastries and a better apology coming up. I'll see you in about twenty minutes."

"By then I'll know all the garages in Brighton, and you can have your pick."

"Yep."

"OK hurry back. See you soon. Love you Caroline. I'm glad you're OK."

"Love you too, Mel. And thanks. _Bye bye_."

Caroline clicked off and scanned the horizon as she rolled down the street. She put down the windows and let the sea air fill her nose. The gulls screamed, and as the white-tipped navy of the vast English Channel came into view she smiled at it.


	2. Turn Turn Turn

"I _do_ love it when you're impractical, you know."

"I know. And against all my better judgement I do silly things just to please you." Caroline flashed a bright smile at Melanie that matched the day.

The two women strolled across the coarse golden beach, each holding a pair of shoes and the other's hand. The sun was high, the water splashed and crashed, and it was a glorious Brighton midafternoon. Without the direct sunshine it would have been far too cold for bare feet and rolled up jeans. As it was Caroline had caught a bit of a chill. But Melanie did bring out the impractical in her.

The Jeep was down but not permanently out. The damage was more than cosmetic. It would take the garage three days to fix the whacked alignment and replace the bumper. It was either hire a car and return home, then return to fetch the Jeep, or stay and enjoy an extended vacation with Melanie.

The decision to stay wasn't half as hard as Caroline lead Melanie to believe. They extended the rental on the flat, and here they were, beach side. Punters and boaters raced by. Ahead of them the pier was end-of-weekend quiet but not void of life. It was the only day of their trip so far that had not started and ended in overcast gloom. They weren't the only ones taking advantage of the reprise, the bliss, and the blue sky.

"I know you're missing Flora already. Gillian wasn't too put out?" Melanie nudged the corner of her squared-off, burgundy glasses as she peered through them at Caroline. The fine crows-feet patchwork at the edges of her green eyes disappeared into the thick rims.

"I do miss her. I can't believe how much. But Gillian will be just fine. Calamity's old enough now to help and Flora's independent enough she doesn't have to watch them like a hawk at all times." Flora's departure from what Caroline had dubbed the 'appalling threes,' had resulted in a miraculous change in her daughter. In this case alliteration in the description had not been as important as accuracy. Three had left Caroline wrung out to dry. But now Flora was four going on forty, and far more balanced in temperament between her lost mother Kate and her ever-present mother Caroline.

They passed a twirling, musical carousel and the laughter from the children on board made Caroline miss Flora even more. On the other side of it was a long, low concrete sea wall.

"You mind if we stop and watch the carousel? Just for a while?" Caroline swung Melanie's hand and tried not to look embarrassed at her own request.

"As you wish, Buttercup."

"I just don't _get_ that movie."

"Oh who cares about the movie? It's the book that I love. But if you'll please keep wrinkling your nose in that adorable fashion, I'll rattle off more movies you don't get. I like the way it makes you look."

"No need for that." Caroline swapped faces and put on her smugly amused expression. "And you always love the book more."

"Well of course I do! That's why I've embraced a life filled with them. Use your head, woman." Melanie rapped her knuckles on her own dark head and shook her shining, thick black hair. Streaked with silver at the temples, it hung long and straight, breaking just over her shoulders. Most of the weekend it had been draped up and back in an untidy half-pony tail as Melanie combatted the humidity and the salt air.

They settled on to the wall and began sweeping sand from their feet. Caroline rubbed hers together, brisk motion adding welcome warmth before she replaced her blue and grey trainers.

As the carousel turned and turned, Caroline began to recognize the faces as they passed by. There was a woman her age, her firm build, and her ruddy blond English look. She had a girl with her, Caroline assumed a daughter, who was perhaps a year older than Flora. The mum held the girl tight on the horse as they traveled around and around. The young girl laughed and pitched back and forth on the wooden golden galloper, face covered in joy. The mother did not participate in the raucous cacophony of movement, sound and merriment with her daughter or her fellow travelers.

Caroline believed that she was however, trying to _appear_ to be enjoying it. She wore a smile, but it stayed fixed and unchanged. Her eyes were wide, but they scanned the beach and the parents and children around her.

Last month Caroline and Melanie along with Gillian and Robbie had taken Flora and Calamity up to the Lightwater Valley theme park for the day. The girls were young for it, but it was the kind of outing that provided ample adult stimulation. She'd ridden with Flora on the carousel and hadn't been able to look away for a second from the light and abandon in her daughter's eyes. By the time the ride was over she and Flora were both breathless and giggling.

The carousel slowed and stopped. The mum bundled the girl off the pony and pulled held her hand as they walked away from the carousel. Soon enough they mingled with the sprinkling of tourists wandering on the promenade.

"You're watching the blonde woman with her daughter?" Next to her, Melanie leaned against Caroline and nudged.

Caroline didn't respond as her eye snagged a short man with thing, stringy hair standing forty meters away at the top of the stairs leading from the beach to the road. He leaned against the black wrought-iron post sipping a soda and not paying attention to anything. Appearing not to be paying attention to anything, at least.

Melanie nudged again and Caroline rejoined and accompanied it with a broad smile. "You don't miss a trick, do you?"

"Not usually." Melanie wrapped her paisley scarf around Caroline's neck and pulled her close. Her warm breath filled Caroline's ear. "And because of my silly, random and useless collection of knowledge, you'll never best me at University Challenge."

"That day is coming, my dear. I can smell victory. I can practically _taste_ it." Caroline's inflection and countenance were stern, but the kiss she planted on Melanie's nose was not. She finished her affections with a quick push of Melanie's glasses back up her nose, and sat back to admire the woman's smooth honey-brown skin. Caroline paid more than an average amount of attention to her skin care and was – content – with the results. Melanie paid very little attention to her darker complexion and the effect was still more radiant than Caroline's consistent ministrations.

"I think those are chips you smell, actually. Can we share some?"

The smell of fish and chips did fill the boardwalk, and it wasn't at all unpleasant as it mingled with the sea air. "Of course. Come on." Since meeting Melanie, only chasing after Flora kept Caroline in any state resembling fit and trim.

There was little Caroline ever felt like denying Melanie. Including a holiday trip to bustling Brighton, rather than the sleepier Isle of Wight she'd favored. If she'd known the sojourn to the south of England after dropping William off at Oxford would last a week, rather than a couple nights, she might have been less flexible.

"Why do you think that woman looked so dour? Do you suppose she's doing a runner after pulling a wild bank-robbery caper in France?" Melanie's big sage eyes grew bigger and Caroline saw the vivid imagination behind them spark to life.

"What I suppose is she's an overworked, underpaid, and exhausted single mum desperate for a holiday."

"Come on now. That's no fun at all. But I can see why you'd imagine it that way." Melanie squeezed Caroline's waist and she started and squeaked.

"Not everything in life is a book plot, Mel."

"Oh but wouldn't it be so much more fun if it were, Caroline?"

"mmmmmm" Caroline imitated Celia and let her rumbled non-response and narrowed eyes speak volumes.

A cloud rolled across the sun, the leading edge of a large bank intent on moving in and settling in over the afternoon. Caroline pulled Melanie's scarf tighter for her, and did the same with her own. She linked arms with the other woman and they snuggled in against each other, walking on toward the pier in search of the aromatic chips.


	3. Who's That Lady?

By the time they polished off the bag of hot, greasy, salty and satisfying chips and made the walk home, a fine mist accompanied the now ash-grey sky.

"Anyone feel like a long lazy shower to wash off the salt and sand?"

Caroline thrust her hand high and her arm straight up in the air. "I'm up for it."

"Yes! I hoped you'd say that." Melanie raised a fist in triumph, beamed and dashed into the en-suite.

Caroline hummed to herself as she stripped off her trainers and hung her light jacket in the entryway of the flat that served double duty as a mud room. They'd been vigilant about not tracking the beach back inside with them, but it was a beach after all.

 _Tap tap tap._

Caroline yelped and whirled to face the front door. It was glass and immediately on the other side of it stood a hulk of a man holding a tiny pink sweater. She glanced over her shoulder toward the en-suite and closed the solid wood door that separated the flat from the entry room.

She did not open the door but spoke through the thick storm-glass. "Yes. Hullo. You've given me quite a start. Can I help you?"

She turned her head to catch his muffled voice as he spoke. "I think this is yours." The man with the thick red hair and ruddy skin stood at between 190 and 200 centimeters and had to weigh at least 117 kilos. Tall and bulky though he was, he still shrugged against the mist that had turned to drizzle and the biting sea breeze. His moose-brown overcoat shimmered with beaded rain that clumped and ran down the length of it to fall on the boardwalk.

Caroline turned and locked the main door, then opened the entryway to let him in. A giant man hoisting a pink sweater seemed the thinnest criminal ruse available, and she took a chance.

He ducked his head in gratitude. "Or what I mean to say is, I think this is your daughter's."

"Actually, it's _not_ mine. Or my daughter's. What in the world gave you that impression, and how did you happen to find me in the first place, to give me something that isn't mine?" Not that she could physically intimidate this man, but she crossed her arms, drilled her eyes up at his, and sported the angry-mother look reserved for Lawrence and William when at their worst in an attempt to do just that.

"Well it was left on the carousel. I work there – I run it and help people on and off and do maintenance. You know, whatever."

Caroline made a 'go on – with haste' gesture and he got to the point.

"Thought you left it there, we found it a while back this afternoon. Jimmy, he works with me, he said he remembered your daughter having it. Because of the big red heart on it? She had it tied at her waist, I guess, and you could see the heart?"

Another impatient gesture.

He rubbed at the stubble on the back of his freckled neck. "Well Jimmy put in the lost and found. Then just not long ago we saw you walk by and so I followed you. Tried to hustle up and catch you before you got home, but – I didn't."

"You _followed_ me?"

A scarlet flush matching his ginger hair crept up his neck, and he stepped out of the entry and back into the rain. He stared at the puddle he stood in.

"Well yes ma'am, I did. On account of how it's been so cold, and the girl was probably missing it. And I'm just off shift, or I was almost off shift, so I thought it'd be a nice thing to do."

Caroline narrowed her steel-blue eyes but they didn't stay that way, because to Caroline he was transparent. He had the look and the carriage of countless footballers who had trudged through Sulgrave Heath at their parent's insistence. Great slabs of athletic skill and not much more. Good boys who kept their heads down and worked hard for their mediocre grades.

She made way and waved him back inside. A crooked grin appeared and he stepped in. His boots squeaked on the tile. The water hitching a ride along with him mingled with the beach sand and made a mess that Caroline couldn't wait to clean up.

"It _was_ a nice thing to do. Unfortunately, it's only a nice _gesture_ , though, because my daughter is more than four hundred kilometers away and doesn't own that sweater. Your friend was wrong, and so were you, eh - "

She tilted her head down, cast her gaze up at him, and waited for a response.

"Ah – Brian. I'm called Brian. Sorry. That's too bad I messed up. Too bad for the little girl, I mean, the one missing the sweater." He squinted at her. "Huh. Jimmy said the gal looked just like you. I caught the tail end of her going and I was thinking that too."

Tale told and now convinced of his mistake, he cast his look to the floor.

"Well, in any case, thank you for trying to do the right thing, Brian. Have a good evening."

"Oh. Right. Yeah." He held the sweater out to Caroline.

She did not move to grab it and it hung there between them, abandoned. "You see it's not _mine_ , though, is it?"

"No."

"So I shouldn't _take_ it then, should I?"

"No. Right. Yes ma'am. I'll take it back with me tomorrow to the lost and found." Brian pulled it close to him again and tucked it into his coat.

"Yes. That's exactly what you should do." Caroline's brow knit, but it wasn't in anger. Seven, seventeen, or twenty-seven, the lead the horse to water strategy seemed to work equally well with the thicker boys. She smiled up at him.

"OK then. Sorry to bother you ma'am. Have a nice night." He ducked at her again and left.

She eased the door shut and shivered at the damp cold that filled the entry. Her feet were freezing.

* * *

"It was just some nice boy who thought he'd found my sweater. Or rather Flora's sweater. Not Flora's – a young girl's sweater, whose mum apparently is my doppelganger." Caroline stared, hypnotized by the shimmering white soap bubbles as her finger tracked them across the brown skin of Melanie's chest.

"You're not really making sense, Lizzy."

"That's not my fault. It's a confusing situation to explain, and you're intentionally distracting me. And don't call me Lizzy."

"I'm sorry. Not intentionally distracting." Melanie ran her hands up Caroline's bare lower back and rested them on her speckled shoulders. "Tell me more, Caroline."

Caroline grabbed her hands and returned them where they ought to be at this point in the lazy, hot-shower process.

"I'll multi-task. It's a strength."

Melanie pecked her on the nose with a good-natured snicker. "Yes it is."

"Mistaken identity, that's all. Now can you return to doing what you were just doing? I was really getting somewhere." Caroline bent her neck to kiss Melanie's collarbone.

"Does this have anything to do with that woman from earlier and that man who was watching her?"

"Not that I can make out, no."

"Who was that man anyway – and why were you staring at him?"

"Seriously. _Nothing_ gets by you." Caroline clapped her hands at Melanie's bare waist. "Fine. We're not moving on from this, are we? He was the man from the car wash." She blew up past her damp bangs and prepared herself for a long conversation full of questions. Until Caroline satisfied Melanie's curiosity, Melanie wouldn't be satisfying her – in any way.

"The man whose car you wrecked?"

"The man whose car I backed into."

"Weasel-man Dave?"

"Yes. Weasel-man Dave and the man who was standing under the lamp post this afternoon are one in the same."

Melanie pursed her lips and stared past Caroline, who downgraded her prospects another notch. Her girlfriend was no longer here in the shower with her, but a mile away on a sandy beach rerunning the film in her head.

"I mean, it has to have something to do with her Caroline, because clearly she's where the mix-up started. She's what everything has in common."

Caroline put her hands on her own hips and stepped backward. She bumped the cold tile of the shower wall behind her and gasped.

She laughed at the shock, and then a stern tone as she responded. "Now that's not true at all. She wasn't anywhere near the car wash."

"As far as you _know_." Melanie laid a finger on Caroline's nose and grinned.

"Mmmmm. As far as I know."

Melanie put three fingers to her lips and narrowed her olive-green eyes at the floor of the shower. Caroline watched her drift away again to the beach and the carousel.

"Rinse." She grabbed Melanie by the waist and reversed their positions under the full, pounding flow of the shower head, washing away the remainder of the soap and shampoo from Melanie. A ghost of a grin passed her lips in gratitude but she was still a world away.

Caroline leaned into her and turned off the shower. She wrapped an arm around Melanie and hauled her even closer. "Solve the riddles on your own time, Sherlock. You're on my dime right now."

Melanie looked up and by her surprised expression appeared to snap back to the here and now. "You're right. Not very nice to tease you like that and change the subject, was it? Sorry, I know I get distracted. I'm back and I'm a woman on a mission." She laid a finger on Caroline's chest, clarifying the mission.

"Yes you do live in your own world. It's adorable but it's damned frustrating sometimes." The heat and the steam of the shower dissipated as they stood making puddles and Caroline shivered.

Melanie reached over and grabbed a plush white towel from the warmer on the wall. She gave Caroline a brisk head-to-toe rub down and wrapped her in it. "Better?"

"Much. Now let's do you."


	4. I Just Called to Say I Love You

Caroline rolled her head to the side and looked up at Melanie, who had already fallen asleep on the khaki-covered sofa where they'd crashed out after dinner. The flat was ideal – Melanie was a fiend on Air B and B, and the couple times they'd managed to escape for a night or two Caroline had been unable to find a thing to complain about.

She rested in Melanie's lap a while longer, listening to the faint sound of the ocean waves drift in from across the boardwalk. She set down her magazine and sat up, careful not to wake her sleeping partner. Melanie was a morning person and that suited Caroline fine – except when she was napping by 8pm.

It was almost Flora's bedtime. Smile already on her lips, she snagged her mobile from the coffee table and wandered into the bedroom as she dialed.

Flora would answer before the second ring when she expected a call from her mum, and the glow on Caroline's face in response was consistent.

"Hello my little miss. How was your day?"

"Mummy! I had the best day. Calamity and me drew you pictures." Flora turned the phone, ostensibly toward the pictures were stashed. Caroline saw her kitchen wiz by, Gillian bent over next to Calamity at the counter, full glass of wine at her side.

Flora swiveled the phone back around again.

"It's 'Calamity and I, Flora.' And I can't wait to see them. Are you in your pajamas yet?"

Flora was solemn and she nodded in affirmation of her understanding and her good deeds. "Yes. I cleaned my teeth too. Will you be home to kiss me goodnight?"

"Not tonight my love. I know I promised last night that I would be. But remember how Aunt Gillian told you that my car got a little scratched up and it needs to be fixed at the garage?"

"Yes." She shimmied back and forth, unhappy with the truth of the situation. "Do they put a big plaster on it?"

Caroline chuckled. Band aids and a kiss from mum – even after fifty they still made a lot of things better. "The nice woman at the garage said she would make it all better and when she does, I can come home."

Flora's lips slid into a pout and her eyes tightened. They began to shine and it pinched Caroline's heart.

"I'm sorry sweetheart, but these things happen. We know that." It was cold comfort and Caroline saw the meltdown building in her daughter's brown eyes.

"Will you promise to continue to be a good girl for your Auntie Gillian? I'll be home before you know it, and we can draw pictures and read Paddington together all day when I do. Maybe we can even visit Mel at the library?"

"Okay. Will you bring me something from the beach? What will you bring me?"

"It'll be a surprise. Because you're my very good girl, and I'm always thinking of you. So when I see exactly the right thing, I'll bring it home and we can look at it together."

Skepticism and delight battled it out on Flora's tiny features. Delight appeared to be winning the day, but even at four that situation could be a temporary one. Best not to drag things out.

"It is now officially past your bedtime. I wish I were there to kiss you and tuck you in. But your Aunt Gillian does such a good job of that. We're so lucky to have her, aren't we?"

Another solemn nod from Flora and a sly smile as she snuck a peek at her cousin and Aunt.

"OK then. I'm sending you so much love. Can I talk to Auntie Gillian now?"

"Yes. I love you too mummy."

"Sweet dreams my little little miss."

Caroline spoke to the can lights in the ceiling as Flora dashed off.

"Oh, Caroline. That's a nice sentiment but I do wish you'd stop calling me your little miss. Robbie just might not understand if he heard." Gillian picked up the phone sporting raised eyebrows and added an off-color laugh.

"Funny Gillian. Here I was worried she was going to go into melt down mode but she dropped the mobile before I was even done. So I guess she's good to go. How are things?"

Caroline was finally, mostly comfortable spending a few nights away from Flora. She wasn't for the first few years but she realized that if she wanted her relationship with Melanie to progress, she needed some time and space to give her undivided attention.

"All quiet on Conway drive. Can we take it off of FaceTime?"

"If I don't have to stare at that sour expression while we chat, absolutely."

"Good. I hate feeling like I'm a starlet on display. I'm wrecked from the day and I'm not up for it."

It was quite possibly true. It was also quite possibly true that she'd been at the wine and didn't want Caroline to know. Since Gillian was now doing extended Flora duty and being a spectacular sport about it, Caroline had no room to complain. She also knew that Gillian didn't drink more than one when she had Calamity on her own.

"Yep. Ring me back."

This time it was Caroline who answered on the first ring. "So, how's things? I'm really sorry to put you out like this."

"Nah. It's fine. But I'm thinking that I ought to get back home tomorrow. Would you mind if I just pack up Flora and go?"

"No. But I'm just surprised. You seemed so keen for a break from…everything in Halifax." Caroline didn't need to see Gillian's eyes. The silent tension on the line answered any questions she had about the state of Gillian and Robbie's relationship at the moment.

"Robbie's got another week before the suspension is over. It won't be soon enough for me."

"I still don't _get_ it. Why would he go and take a swing at Dave – his best mate – of all people. It just doesn't make _sense_ , Gillian. It's not like Robbie at all."

"Eh. You're asking the wrong girl. Had a row about something and that's all I can get out of him. Since they both got suspended I can't guess who really started it. I don't even care anymore, I just want him back to work and out of the house."

"So why the rush to get back tomorrow then? Have you talked with him today? Is he giving you a hard time about my not making it back?"

"Actually, he was fine with it. Told me to enjoy myself."

"Ah. Hence the need to get back and check up on him, eh? Just go easy on the wine tonight. But take a bottle from the wine rack home for you and Robbie for tomorrow night after the kids are down. Maybe you can finally get the story out of him if you soften him up a bit first."

"Thanks mum, glad you can manage to order me about from hundreds of kilometers away."

"It's just that I care about you Gillian. I really do. And I'm worried. It's just not like Robbie. Are you sure there's nothing going on you're not sharing?"

"Nah." The silent tension continued to pour through the line and Caroline made assumptions she didn't voice.

"Yeah. You're right though. It's bugging me. He's never kept secrets from me before and my imagination is working overtime. Guess I wanta get up and make sure there's no new developments. Maybe if I knew why they had a falling out I'd feel better about it all."

"Just do what you have to do. Flora will love being at the farm and it might distract her from the fact I'll be gone longer than I promised. Just don't forget to pack her pillow and her blanket or you'll be coming back to Harrogate before you know it."

"Pillow and blanket. Got it."

Caroline could almost see Gillian biting at her thumb or worrying at her neck.

"Anything else at all I need to know before we ring off?"

"You're not going to like it particularly. But yes. Lawrence came by today. He stayed long enough to do some laundry and stuff his face. He seemed disappointed to miss you."

"Did he seem disappointed?" Caroline wasn't convinced by Gillian's tentative confession. "Hmmm. He knew I was away and was coming back late this afternoon. What time was he there?"

"I don't really remember when he got here but he left after dinner. Maybe he forgot. Sounds like his course work has been keeping him really busy."

Gillian had lectured Caroline more than once about giving Lawrence his space. Caroline had been able to pull it off here and there, and it did seem to produce results.

"Well at least there was a Lawrence sighting and I know he's alive and well and will have clean knickers for another week. Sorry I missed him. I'll let you go. Thanks again for everything."

"Night Caroline. Enjoy the extra time with Mel."

"Don't worry. I am. Night."

She crashed back against the pillows of their rumpled bed and closed her eyes. She opened them again as she heard the door swing across the low-pile carpet.

"How's the weather in Harrogate?" Melanie peaked around the door with a warm smile.

"Fair and mild. But I see a storm on the horizon for Robbie and Gillian."

"Don't you always?" Melanie stretched out next to Caroline and rolled her face into her stomach.

Caroline placed a hand on her head with a smile and ran it over her black hair. "Yep. You're right. I'll stop worrying."

"Good."

"Let me text Lawrence and then let's turn in. He came by the house today. I'm not sure if he meant to see me or meant to miss me."

"Don't look for rain clouds where there aren't any. I'm sure he meant to see you."

Caroline's blue eyes twinkled and she ruffled Melanie's hair. "I'm sure you're right."


	5. Private Eyes (They're Watching You)

"Hi. Nigel. Yeah. I think I have her."

"You think you do Dave, or you do?"

"Well I did – I did earlier. But –"

"You had her, and now you don't?"

"Yeah that's – that's the size of it. I saw her, Leann, earlier, at the beach – at the carousel. But I – I lost track of her. But Leann is here in Brighton."

"So why're you talking to me instead of finding her? I want my wife and my daughter home. Now."

"Because I'm keeping an eye on the sister. You said she's down here - probably because her sister has a place here, right? Right?"

"Yeah."

"Well I got the sister and I'm watching her. This Caroline looks just like her. She must be under a new name these days. But – but she's a dead ringer. And Jeep's grey, not black like you said. At least – you said you remembered it being black. But car seat and all, it's – it's gotta be her sister. I saw them together – well saw them at the same place - earlier."

"Gotta be her sister? This sounds like a load of shit, Dave. And Leann never said anything about her sister changing her name."

"No no. Nigel, listen. Listen. They met up this afternoon. Down at the beach. Then they split up. But some dumb hulk working at the carousel there just walked me right to the sister. He had Misty's sweater with him. She's gotta be around."

"I hear a lot of maybes and gottas and must'ves from you. You better not be making excuses."

"Listen. It fits. This woman, the sister, goes by Caroline, was real flighty, seemed touchy the whole time talking to this guy tonight. Whole time at the car wash this morning too. Acted like she had somewhere else to be. With me and with this guy. Couldn't wait to get rid of me – us – either of us. Like she didn't want people around."

"Yeah she probably did act flighty this morning. Because _you ran into her_ , Dave."

"That – that was not my fault. She backed right into me."

"Nice job keeping your distance."

"Ah she doesn't know anything, like I said. Testy. She was – was distracted. Don't think she even saw me standing right in front of her. It was more that she – she looked right through me."

"So you _think_ you have Leann's nervous sister. This is real good stuff Dave, real good stuff."

"C'mon Nigel. You send me down here with nothing but a couple pics of Leann and a ten-year-old picture of her sister. That's nothing to go from. I'll get her tomorrow, latest, and bring her home."

"Yeah Dave. That's exactly what you're going to do. She's going to be home by tomorrow afternoon. I already sent Mitch down. He'll be there in a couple hours.

"No. No. Don't. I don't want Mitch. He's too impulsive."

"Too bad. He's on his way. So be a good boy. See you tomorrow."

"Yeah. Yeah Nigel, tomorrow."

Dave hung up his mobile and tugged his collar against the rain that was picking up intention. The lights went in the condo where the blonde woman was staying (she _must_ be Leann's sister, it made the most sense).

He started off, now looping back around to the flat where he'd followed the giant red-head, to check him out one more time. Maybe Leann had hired him. He let go of a deep breath he didn't know he's been holding. Jesus. Nigel sending Mitch. That wouldn't go well at all.

* * *

"Breakfast delivered right to me? Even though it's not to make up for anything? Just because you're sweet? Because you are, you know."

"If you keep saying it, I might believe it, Mel."

"OK. I will keep saying it. You're really very sweet Caroline, and I'm soooo lucky." Mel crossed her legs under her on the couch and pulled a red tartan wool blanket closer around her shoulders. The rain that had been threatening to get serious all week had materialized in earnest overnight.

It was still early dawn. The clouds were thick and dark and the sun was nowhere in sight, but the light was growing bright enough to venture out. Mel had woken them early to listen and watch the rain out the front windows while nursing tea. They 'could watch the world wake up.' It had only taken Caroline a few minutes to fall back asleep again next to Mel on the couch, but she'd enjoyed the time she'd been awake, with the rain pelting the windows and Mel right next to her in quiet rapture at the same sight. Mel had begun poking her about breakfast ten minutes ago and she'd agreed to go foraging.

"Yes, you are lucky. I am as well. And I don't mind the rain. I'm not afraid of melting."

"You should be, because you're made of sugar. And spice. All the nice things."

Caroline narrowed her eyes and sprung from the couch. "Oh now it's just too much. You want something. Besides pastries." She shook her finger and her head at Mel. This was laying it on thick, even for her.

"Can we have curry for breakfast? Please?"

"Oh dear god Mel. No. And where am I even going to get curry at this hour?" But Caroline was already in the entryway pulling on her boots. She popped her head out as she was tying up her thick blond hair – a lot greyer in the last few years if she didn't keep right on top of it.

She shrugged on her lined navy slicker and Mel piped up with a waiting answer. If there were curry available near-dawn anywhere in Brighton, she'd find it. Caroline was already resigned to her fate.

"See that's the brilliant part! I've already figured it out for you. There's a hole in the wall not four blocks over that has takeaway – and it's open. Nothing fancy but it's worth a try. Please?"

Caroline stood in the entry. She pursed her lips, crossed her arms and considered Mel's entreating green eyes. She crooked her finger at Melanie.

Melanie rolled up and off the couch. She approached Caroline with deliberate steps, one in front of the other, eyes brighter with each one. "You're going to say yes, aren't you?"

Caroline turned her head to one side and pointed at her cheek.

Melanie took the cue right off and planted several kisses. "You are made of sugar, Caroline. Don't every let anyone tell you differently."

"I won't. But don't go spreading rumors about it. Particularly at the school."

"I promise I'd never, never do anything to undermine your stern reputation. I know how hard you've worked for it. Lips sealed." Melanie made the obligatory zipping motion before launching another volley of kisses at Caroline's cheek.

"All right. All right. I'm off." Caroline laughed her way out the door and pulled up the hood of her navy rain coat and buttoned it over her thick oat-meal colored cable knit sweater. She tucked her amber scarf into the gap in the coat – nothing she'd ever purchase herself, but a gift from Melanie in one of her favored shades of orange – and set off to retrieve the curry. Melanie had sent the address to her mobile and she studied it as she walked.

A few minutes later and convinced she was on the right path, she looked up and around. On her right the ocean pitched and roared in angry black swells that punished the beach with each crashing wave. The tide was out, but on occasion she could still feel the spray sting her nose as it drifted past her.

Out of the corner of her eye she spotted a blaze of bright pink. A clump of fabric wrapped around the base of a black lamppost just ahead of her. As she bent to pick it up she felt an odd lightness in her head and a pit in her stomach. Sure enough, there was the red heart, right in the center of the sweater.

She stood with it at arm's length, clasping it with the tips of fingers. It did not at all resemble the cute, fuzzy missing bit of warmth from last night - a loved and worn spot of comfort sure to be missed by its young owner. No longer. Now it was stained, and sinister. Murky water ran off of it back into the puddle it came from.

Caroline wasn't sure what to do. Leaving it here seemed the wrong thing to do. As though she would not be leaving just the sweater, but also the ghost of the owner with it, abandoned in the cold rain. One thing was clear about it, it certainly would have fit Flora. How could she leave it here the ground where anything could become of it?

On the other hand - it was soaked and dirty.

The impossibility of leaving it behind outweighed the impracticality. She wrung it out the best she could and tucked it under her arm. She frowned and looked around, realizing she'd been so mesmerized by the sweater she'd not even noticed if anyone else might have something to say about the situation.

Apparently no one did.

' _Because no one else is out at seven on a miserably wet Monday morning fetching curry for breakfast.'_

No one who wasn't in love, of course. She and Melanie had been making a slow go of it over the past year. There had been plenty of time and opportunity to test each other's foibles. Mel's seemed far more surmountable than her own.

Greg had 'discovered' Melanie Wysocki two years ago. She was the weekday children's librarian at Harrogate and after months of Greg's raving about her she'd finally gone in one day on a whim while Sulgrave Heath was on a holiday. Melanie was only a couple years younger than Caroline, but she had a suspicion Greg was nursing a serious crush and wanted to see what all the fuss was about.

The reason for the crush was immediately apparent to Caroline. Though an unconventional blend, Melanie's Indian and Polish heritage worked out for her. Brown skin, green eyes, dark hair. She wasn't tall, she wasn't short, neither chubby nor thin. But her vibrancy and buoyancy turned the trick for the kids and parents who adored her, including Greg, and most particularly Caroline. Melanie's synergy eclipsed her parts and Caroline _did_ consider herself quite lucky for having found her.

And on top of it all, there was no need to force an awkward new relationship on Flora. A year later Caroline was now more than ready for a serious commitment. And Melanie wasn't. She thought back on their fight yesterday morning. Instead of anger she felt discouragement. Melanie loved her – she was sure of it. And Caroline loved Melanie – hence early morning curry runs. So what was missing?

Head down and the out of place sweater still tucked under her arm, she almost walked right past her destination. If it hadn't been for the bright orange awning and the multiple neon signs in the window she wouldn't have looked up.

She stepped into the steamy-hot breakfast curry anomaly that Melanie's curiosity and hunger had ferreted out. The sweet and spicy smelling warmth of it revived her soggy spirits. She stomped her feet at the abrupt climate change and shook off her hood.

"Whew. OK. What've we got here?"


	6. I Hear You Knocking

"Out, damned spot!"

"Feeling a little guilty, Lady Macbeth?" Caroline chuckled as Melanie hunched over the sink and scrubbed at the white polo she'd had on this morning.

"No, I think I'm feeling foolish for eating curry in a white shirt!" Melanie scowled at Caroline, but the corners of her mouth turned upward and the effect was endearing rather than intimidating.

"Mmmm. I thought you were perhaps full of remorse for sending me out in the tempest as your errand girl." She brushed her hand across Melanie's waist, and with an imperious sparkle in her blue eyes leaned in to steal a kiss.

"My conscience is clear, Caroline. You admitted that the walk was charming and romantic."

"I don't think those were my exact words."

"Close enough? I guess I might have embellished. But I hope I mentioned that it defied expectations for takeaway, and I love you to pieces?"

"Yep. You did. Many, many times." Caroline leaned back against the counter behind Melanie and laid her chin in her hand. Everything was so easy between them. She wondered again why Melanie was holding back. Echoes of Kate sounded in her head – her own inability to commit, to give herself fully, and what it had cost her. She'd like to think she was capable of learning from her mistakes. She hadn't held back with Melanie, and she still wasn't getting what she wanted.

"Good." Melanie smiled over her shoulder at her.

Caroline crossed the kitchen. She wrapped her arms around Melanie's waist and laid her head on her shoulder. "Why did we fight yesterday morning?"

"Well." Melanie paused. She set down the shirt and turned to face Caroline. "You mean aside from leaving my towel on the floor of the bathroom?"

"Yes."

"What do we always fight about?"

"You moving in."

Melanie put a finger on her nose. "There you have it." She sighed. "Can't we talk about something more pleasant, like me throwing Celia a birthday party, or Gillian's sex life?"

Caroline stepped back and placed her hands on her hips, cocking them to one side. "It was hard enough to bring this up again. Don't make me regret it."

Melanie closed her eyes and tilted her head back. She frowned. "Caroline no – I don't mean to make you cross. I just don't want to fight again while we're on holiday."

"Well when _do_ you want to fight about it?"

Melanie sighed, and there was more hurt than exasperation in it.

"Caroline, I – "

There was a sharp rap on the front door. They both turned their heads. Caroline looked at Melanie, who shrugged.

"Finish with your shirt. I'll get it."

Another sharp series of knocks.

"Alright I'm coming!"

The weightless buzz in Caroline's head and the pit in her stomach returned as she came through from the living room.

She opened the door of the flat to two young police officers in neon yellow raincoats striped in reflective silver. The grey, sullen day framed them in outline and brought a blinding pop to their bright silhouettes. It was a sight that would turn her stomach the rest of her life.

She instantly thought of Flora – she was well last night, and Caroline hadn't heard from Gillian this morning. Then she thought of her mother and Alan – she'd just texted with them, they were safely at home. There was no good reason for the police to be at the doorstep and it made her even more anxious.

"Hullo ma'am. I'm officer Smith, this is officer Weixel. We're with Sussex police. Do you have a moment?"

"Of course." She stood flat footed, rooted to the floor.

"Alright." The officer on Caroline's left, who had introduced his partner, peered in to the warm, dry entry. It was hard to miss the 'can we come in out of the rain' written in his expression. As he glanced around his eyes stopped over her right shoulder, at the coat rack. He held out his arm against the door.

His tone went from polite inquiry to forceful assertion. "We have some questions we'd like you to answer, ma'am. We'd like to come in."

Caroline frowned and turned to the coat rack to see what provoked the change in his demeanor. Her eyes immediately came to rest on the unknown child's sweater she'd brought home this morning. Out of place among her and Melanie's things and impossible to miss.

Now her anxiety took on a new form, and though she had no reason to feel guilty, she began inventorying all her recent major and minor sins. She had crossed against a light this morning walking to get breakfast. Then there was – the pit in her stomach dissolved – surely this had to do with the Jeep and the fender bender at the car wash.

"Yes. Please come in – I'm so sorry to keep you out in the damp." She shook her head and stepped back, the movement dissolving the rest of her anxiety.

"Thank you ma'am." The pair stepped inside and between their bulk and their wet gear the entryway became close quarters.

Melanie appeared at the other side of the doorway into the living room. She didn't interrupt, but watched them with an intensity of gaze matching the officers' own, and stood close to Caroline.

Officer Smith, who had been taking the lead, continued. "Get right to it then. We've been on a door to door in this area looking for a woman matching your description."

As quickly as it had fled Caroline's anxiety returned. Even absent an accusation she was unsettled to be the object of scrutiny. Alongside anxiety she felt a quiet anger rise. She'd done nothing to warrant this intrusion. Her mouth drew into a thin line and she crossed her arms over her stomach.

"Okay."

He paused – ostensibly waiting to see if Caroline would volunteer additional information to fill the silence. The other man seemed to ignore her, instead doing a bald visual inspection of everything in sight. He tilted his head and tried to look past Melanie further into the flat. She stood squarely in the doorway and did not step aside to accommodate him.

"Can you tell me, ma'am, who that pink sweater over there belongs to? Can't imagine it's either of yours personally."

Caroline's internal war between imagined guilt, fear of bad news, and indignant anger came to a sudden, dazzling end as anger surged forward. Whether it was at her discomfort in how she'd explain why she'd taken the sweater or what she perceived might be a jest on his part was unclear. But there was no hint of amusement on the man's face, and she tamped down her temper and bit her sharp tongue. Mostly.

"Keen powers of observation, there, officer Smith. In fact, it doesn't belong to either one of us. I found it this morning."

He didn't immediately respond and Caroline saw his own ire begin to rise as she held his gaze and he clearly picked up her smart retort. She rebuked herself and again checked her temper. There was absolutely no need to antagonize the Sussex police force.

"Okay ma'am. Can you tell me where you found it?"

"Yep. About three blocks that way – " she pointed in the direction she'd walked this morning. "It'd be north of here. It was in a puddle, by a lamp post."

"Do you remember the street?"

"No I don't, offhand. And can I ask why you're asking?"

A shifting of bodies filled the room with the sound of squeaking boots, and there was throat-clearing all around. The floor was now covered in muddy water. A trail from a puddle under one of the men made it to Caroline, and she frowned down at it as it crept under her sock.

"Did you see a man last night with red hair, stood about 190 centimeters. Large man. He might have had that sweater with him?"

She looked up, and concern shone in her wide eyes. "Yes. I think you're describing someone called Brian who came by."

Caroline was growing weary of the man's weighty pauses each time she spoke. Clearly he was trying to lead her somewhere. Whether he was looking for information from her or whether he was looking for her to confess something incriminating, she couldn't tell.

"So you admit that you saw Brian Shadforth last night?"

"I saw and I spoke with a man called Brian. I don't know his last name."

The officer pulled a mobile from his belt, tapped and turned it toward her. "Is this the man?"

The boy in the picture was certainly the same one from last night. It was cropped in to his face, but she recognized the freckles, the hair, and the eager-to-please eyes.

"Yes, that's the boy I spoke to last night."

"Why did you speak to him?"

It was close in the small room. Warmer and humid now with the three of them stuffed in. Melanie was a silent sentry in the doorway between their odd trio and the rest of the flat.

Caroline maintained her stony silence, but then shook her head and waved her arms. This was ridiculous. She'd done nothing wrong. There was no need for a confrontation.

"Okay. Okay. I'm beginning to grow uncomfortable with this. I don't need to be, but I am. And what I'd like to be is helpful, since Brian struck me as a nice boy and quite clearly something's happened with him. So perhaps we can re-start from there and try this again?"

Officers Smith and Weixel exchanged looks, and this time Weixel replied.

"That would work fine, ma'am. If you have anything you can tell us about Brian Shadforth or that sweater there, it would be appreciated."

"Happy to." Caroline recounted the events of the previous evening, and this time officer Smith took notes and his partner listened.

"So you have no connection to Brian – or the woman, or the girl. Why did you pick up the sweater?"

"I don't know, frankly."

Weixel turned to Melanie. "And were you also here last night, ma'am?"

"I was. But I didn't talk with or see Brian." Melanie broke her silence, but with clipped words.

"Alright." Weixle produced a card and handed it to Caroline. He flipped a page in his notebook. "Can I get full names and mobile numbers for each of you?"

Scribbled notes from both officers. Smith chimed in again. "Don't think this is your permanent residence, is it? Can I get your address – or – addresses?"

His innuendo was salt in the fresh wounds of Caroline's budding disagreement with Melanie.

They gave their separate addresses.

"And we'll take the sweater, ma'am?" Weixel inclined his head.

"Oh. Yes." Caroline grabbed it off the coat hook. It was a soft cotton, the kind that seemed reserved exclusively for children's clothes and expensive cashmere. She paused, held it and looked it over one more time, and finally extended her hand toward the officers.

Smith took it with a curt nod. "Very good, thanks. If you're planning on going anywhere, please let us know first."

"Can I please ask, what's happened with Brian?" These men had come into her home – asked her questions, scared her, and for some reason upset her by leaving with the sweater. She deserved to know what all the fuss was about.

Smith paused with his hand on the door. He met Weixel's eyes and then glanced over at Caroline. "He didn't turn up for work this morning. His mate reported him missing - we're just on it now. Reason to believe he might have run into some trouble. Friend said he'd last seen him headed in this direction, with this sweater, following a woman who matches your description."

"I see." The implication that Caroline had been at least one of the last people to see the missing Brian was clear. The light buzz in her head returned and now she gave a curt nod. "Well I hope he turns up. He seemed like a nice boy."

"Right. We'll be in touch if we need anything else ma'am. And if you think of anything, call us."

Caroline closed the door after them and turned to Melanie.

"Well you're off the hook for now. After that I'm certainly not up for a row. How about we settle in for a movie instead?"

"Can we have popcorn?" With the police gone Melanie's truculent stance softened and her expression grew hopeful.

"I believe the answer is yes on both counts – because someone made sure to grab a bag at the market." Caroline placed a kiss on the tip of Melanie's nose. "But first let's clean up this god-awful mess on the floor."


	7. Red Red Wine

The first movie led to a second, and then Chinese delivery. The rain hadn't let up, and neither of them felt like getting soaked. They'd spent a lazy day in, which was a nice change from Melanie dragging her through the city to various museums and art galleries Caroline that had lost interest in on the second day of their visit.

Caroline had left Melanie tucked in on the couch with a book for Flora's goodnight call.

Currently Flora's face filled her iPhone screen in extreme close up. In an instant the perspective zoomed back and Caroline made wide impressed eyes.

"You _are_ always the loveliest in your dinosaur pajamas. Absolutely no doubt."

"Thank you mum." Flora's brown eyes squished in delight and she wiggled her hips back and forth, soaking up the approval. The green dinosaurs danced as she did so, herbivores and carnivores from all evolutionary periods coexisting in harmony on a sea of orange.

"Can you name them for me?" They named the dinosaurs on a weekly basis, as these were Flora's favorite pajamas. A gift from Melanie that had gone over with blazing success.

"Yes!" Flora wiggled more and pointed to her stomach. "Allosaurus."

"Very good. And?"

Flora pointed to her hip. "Stegosaurus."

"Mmmmm hmmmm." Caroline nodded, mouth parted and turned up and eyebrows high.

"T-Rex."

"What else do we call the T-Rex?"

"Tyranosaurus Rex." Flora's alliteration became deliberate and her nose wrinkled as she concentrated.

"Oh very good Flora, well done." Caroline beamed and Flora beamed right back.

The camera zoomed forward again and up to Flora's smile, and Caroline tilted her head back and chuckled.

"When are you coming home, mum?"

"In just a few days, darling. Can I tell you how much I miss you?"

Caroline could not see Flora wiggling from this angle, but the camera danced and back forth. "Yes mummy. Tell me."

"I miss you more than all of the dinosaurs that ever walked the planet."

In the background Caroline heard Gillian chuckle and Calamity reading out loud to herself from Mr. Bump. She missed several of the words, but Caroline judged her phonetic attack strategy as quite strong.

"I love you even more than _that_ , mummy."

"Oh that makes my heart grow a million times bigger." Caroline poked at the screen, wishing she were able to poke Flora right in her chubby cheeks.

"That's impossible, mum."

The practical Caroline in Flora roared forward and she chuckled at Flora and at herself. Physically Flora was _so_ Kate. Hands and fingers beautifully long and agile and just waiting to play a piano. Thin eyebrows that made her brown eyes jump from her face and a pert mouth always ready with the right thing to say to melt her mother's heart, which was a daily occurrence.

She thought of Kate, the balance she'd brought to Caroline, would have brought to them together as parents. Greg wasn't exactly a stand-in, but he kept Caroline's practicality from overpowering the sensitivity in Flora – and in turn Flora brought out all the vulnerability in her.

Flora lost track of the phone as she yawned wide and Caroline was treated to an extreme close-up of a row of small white molars.

"It's bed time, isn't it?"

"Yes mum."

"And you'll be mummy's good girl and go right to bed for Aunt Gillian? One and done on the story time?"

"Yes mum."

"Oh you are perfect, little miss. And I love you." Caroline's blue eyes twinkled and crinkled at the mobile, which she held close looking right into Flora's happy gaze.

"Love you too mummy." More wiggling of the camera.

"Back to Aunt Gillian. Off you scoot."

Flora handed the phone to Gillian and Caroline heard her scamper off to her cousin and begin giggling. Perhaps it was physically impossible for her heart to grow a million times larger, but in the moment it seemed close.

Gillian blew out a hefty breath and ran a hand through her bangs as she plopped down at the kitchen table. Caroline saw a pile of dishes in the sink behind her. Having Flora and Calamity in her charge and Robbie apparently still in an awful mood was piling it on.

"How are you, Gillian?"

"Half-past knackered."

Caroline winced. "I can imagine. Checked on the car today. It will be done on schedule. So I was thinking that you should just keep Flora in Halifax and I'll come get her there? I've put you out enough."

"That's fine. But she's really no trouble. Think it's been good for Calamity to have her around. They've been giggling a lot." Gillian glanced off to where Caroline assumed the current giggles were coming from, and smiled.

"Have you cracked the Robbie mystery yet? How is he?"

"Haven't. And he's still being a twit. Dad tried and got nowhere with him while I was at your place. Took him for a pint yesterday and apparently Dave was at the pub when they walked in. So Robbie insists they go to a different one, but wouldn't give up why when Dad pressed him."

"I can't imagine what it would _be_ that he couldn't share it with Alan."

"I've been racking my brain. Got a few ideas. But none of them makes sense."

Caroline looked down and picked at the comforter on the bed. "Okay. I'm just going to lay the question out there. So don't hate me for it. You're not shilly-shallying about are you? Could Dave have heard something about you and said something to Robbie?"

Gillian rolled her eyes. "Oh for fucks sake. Here we are having a decent conversation, and you have to go and off and act like – like _you_." She ran her hands through her bangs again and shook her head. "I mean, thanks for the vote of confidence Caroline." Gillian was up and pacing now, and Caroline wondered if she was feeling guilty or angry.

"Like I said, just asking. You can't blame me for wondering. And you didn't really give me a direct answer, did you? John or one of the others hasn't been sniffing around lately?"

"NO. And I mean 'NO.' It's been solid with Robbie. Actually, up until his suspension, things were better than I deserve. I know we hit that rough patch about two years ago but we're on the other side of it now. And even then I didn't cheat on him. Not since we've been married."

"Okay. Okay. I _believe_ you. I just can't imagine Robbie hitting Dave. John yes, but not Dave." Caroline smiled apologetically. "But I'd still pay money to see him punch John. Over sleeping with you." It still stung, but Caroline had finally embraced the hard-won realization that Gillian was far more important to her than any wounded pride or pain she suffered over John.

"You and me both." Gillian sat again. She looked down and fiddled with a kitchen towel next to her. "Well, I took you up on the offer and brought a bottle of Rioja back. I thought maybe a bottle of Spanish red might bring back some memories from our honeymoon there. I'll try to loosen Robbie up after the girls are down."

"Good luck. I hope you get some answers soon. And Gillian – thank you again for everything with Flora."

"Yah. Thanks. Night."

Caroline clicked off. Robbie was good for Gillian. She'd leveled out considerably since the wedding, and it was good to see her happy. She did believe Gillian, mostly. It seemed like she'd changed her spots. But when it came to Gillian and sex – well, it was a little like watching the sharks in _Finding Nemo_ going vegetarian.

She wandered out to the living room to find Melanie curled up on the couch, zonked out with the giant _Roald Dahl Omnibus_ spread across her chest. Mel occasionally read to Flora at bed time when she was over, but didn't jump on the line when Caroline made the goodnight calls.

Melanie was a dream with Flora. But as well as they got on, Mel resisted anything that hinted at real permanence – anything that might start qualifying her as a 'mum.' Another example of that final distance they couldn't seem to close the gap on.

Caroline crossed her arms and took the chance to study Melanie as she slept, the slow rise and fall of her chest, the occasional frown passing through her eyebrows or pursing her lips. What was she dreaming of? What was Caroline dreaming of? Could she imagine a lifetime with this woman?

She could – and she wanted it. She'd dated two other women before she and Melanie met. The first, a set up through Gary, was an absolute and predictable disaster. But Caroline figured there had to be a first after Kate, and it probably wouldn't go well anyway she approached it. She put her head down and got through it.

The second had been a lovely woman, an instructor she'd met at Flora's weekly music meet-ups at the community center. They'd done well for a couple months, before the woman had begged off and admitted she just wasn't up for raising a toddler.

She sighed and picked up the book, marking the page for Melanie who now had a smile on her lips.

"Can we go to bed now?" Melanie slowly opened her green eyes and Caroline couldn't help but love the sight of them.

"Absolutely. Come on." Caroline held out her hand and Melanie took it, but pulled Caroline down to the couch with her.

"Can we have a little bit of mischief before we go?"

Melanie snuck a kiss on her cheek, and then several moving progressively lower, and Caroline laughed.

"I think that can be arranged."

* * *

As she finished up tucking in the girls, Gillian heard Robbie coming in the front door. She gave the pair a final glance, clicked off the light and took her time going downstairs, unsure what mood she'd find Robbie in.

"Little cold tonight. Thought I'd go check on the sheep before turning in." He stripped off his barn jacket and hung it at the door, looking at anything but Gillian as he did so.

"Thanks." Gillian hoisted the bottle of red she'd brought back from Caroline's. "After a couple of days straight with the girls I could use a good grown-up chat. Share a glass or two?"

Robbie stretched upward, then rubbed a hand over his stomach and cast a wary glance at her. "Yeah." He nodded, but it seemed more to himself. "Sounds good, actually."

They settled in on the couch and it was a while before either of them spoke. Gillian or Robbie would occasionally rise to add a piece of wood to the fire and nod to the other. But the silence migrated from strained to cozy by the time they emptied the bottle.

Robbie put his arm up on the couch, and Gillian tucked herself under and began to worry at the buttons of his red and black checked flannel shirt.

"Can I know, ever, what happened between you and Dave?"

He paused, and again it seemed to Gillian that whatever he was debating in his head had more to do with him than with her. "I guess I've ducked it long enough. Frankly, it was ridiculous. Don't know why I reacted the way I did."

Gillian knew that was a load of crap. Whatever caused Robbie to blow a gasket, he knew full well and just wasn't up for telling. She waited him out and he finally spilled. Caroline had been on the right track with the wine.

"It was all Cheryl's fault. Did you know that he's been shagging her?"

Gillian sat up and swatted his stomach. What the hell was Dave doing running around with Robbie's ex-girlfriend? "No! Doesn't he understand how bonkers she is? She'll land him in more than a fistfight one of these days."

"Don't know what's he's thinking." Robbie scratched at his beard. "So, what got me riled was, he says to me that one night - when Cheryl was tipsy - she told _him_ that you and Caroline slept together. That day we took Raff to the races and Caroline slept over after you got back from that hotel?"

"Well that's the stupidest thing I've heard in while. I wouldn't sleep with her and that's the absolute truth of it. Never. If I did take up with women, which I won't, it won't be with _Caroline_ —she really is like a sister to me. And she's stuck up. And insufferable. And she's not my type."

"I know that." Robbie looked down at her. "Wait. What do you mean, she's not your type?"

Gillian sat up and crossed her legs, her wine-haze evaporated by turn in the conversation.

"As in missing the important bits, not my type."

"Good to know." Robbie chuckled. "So when I told him he was full of shit, and reminded him what a nutter Cheryl is, _he_ said she had nothing on someone who'd be crazy enough to sleep with that asshole Paul." He shrugged. "I lost it, went off and slugged him. Wouldn't have done it if I wasn't four pints in, but I was. And I did."

"Did he hit you back?"

"We got into a scuffle but we'd had quite a few and were both too far gone to really land anything. Of course it all got back to sergeant. To his credit, Dave tried to take all the blame but the big man decided we were both at fault, so both of us got the suspension."

"Eh. Well. Figures. You two going to sort it?"

"I suppose. What's the use of having a best mate if you can't get into it every so often? He called today after he heard that I walked out of that pub. We're going to grab a pint tomorrow and hug it out, so to speak. Think he's realized what's what and given Cheryl the boot, too."

"That'll help. All the way around."

"Yeah."

Silence fell again and Gillian stood. "What say we go upstairs and I can remind you why you're my type?"

Robbie cracked a crooked smile. "I like the sound of that."


	8. Rainy Days and Mondays

"I know I was a little snotty about it initially, but how about we try the Royal Pavilion today?"

Melanie had been reluctant to add the opulent Regency era landmark to their visit, but today it would be the perfect distraction. She offered her best toothy-emoji style grin to Caroline as she prepared for whatever variety of 'I told you so' would follow.

"Mmmmmm. You're admitting boredom has driven you to abandon your lofty cultural standards?" Caroline sipped her tea, sleeves of her grey thermal pajamas up over her thumbs, and peered at Melanie over the rim of the mug.

"Well not so much. Just - it wasn't on the top of my list. I mean, Caroline, the imitation pales to the real thing - that's all I'm saying."

"Well we didn't all grow up in tropical Indian cultural jewels like Kochi, Melanie. I can't account for the past sins of the British empire, nor can I improve our historical remnants." Caroline's eyebrows arched and she waved her hand, mock frustration dripping from her fingertips.

"That is absolutely true, and I would never expect that of you. But - I suppose I might be willing to give the Pavilion a shot. I'm having a little cabin fever."

"Tired of my company already?" Caroline delivered with a straight face, but Melanie could read the spark in her eye and the set of her mouth - the upward twitch of the left corner - well enough by now to recognize her being difficult for the sake of it. They'd both been a little on edge since the visit from the police.

Neither of them had brought it up in the moment, but yesterday the darkness of the implications and the curiosity of the mix-up involving Caroline had pattered on between them, as quiet but as present as the fall of the rain outside. A question here, a speculation there, and now Melanie wasn't comfortable with any of it. It was past time for them to get out of the flat and out of their heads.

Even if it meant enduring Caroline's condescension, currently in full flush. It never lasted long, and it pleased Melanie to no end to see Caroline so pleased with herself. Not that it was an unusual condition for her – Caroline seemed in a perpetual state of mild disappointment with the majority of the people around her. It took a beat to digest, but within a month of knowing her Melanie had discovered the generosity of spirit Caroline tried so unsuccessfully to hide.

Seeing her pleased with herself – it wasn't quite as musical to Melanie's ears as the rare sound of Caroline actually giggling at something, but it was nice.

"I'm not tired of your company – I'm inviting you along!"

"How kind of you." Now both corners of Caroline's mouth twitched upward, and Melanie played her part to the end.

"I think your attitude actually might be illustrating my point about being cooped up here! Come on – please?"

"Oh of course, Mel." Caroline chuffed and swatted her hand, as though she hadn't been having Melanie on about it since she brought it up. "If it makes you happy."

"Going on an adventure with you makes me happy."

Caroline spared a wary glance outside. "If the rain keeps up, it won't so much be going on an adventure as setting sail."

"Regardless." Melanie gave a huge smile and squeezed Caroline's hand and they sat and studied each other.

Dwelling on whatever the situation was now with this Brian - it had started to make Melanie uncomfortable. The police coming around made it real – took it out of the speculative and into the uncomfortably tangible. As it escalated, she realized how one question might lead to another. Lead to too many questions she wasn't ready to answer if Caroline caught a hair and began obsessing over the whole thing. Which, with Caroline, bound to happen if _anything_ crossed her path once too often. And all of it leading to another battle royale over making some sort of commitment…. She'd never lied to Caroline and she'd rather keep it that way. She'd tell what she needed to in her own time, and so far, Caroline's self-absorption made that more comfortable timetable infinitely possible.

Melanie pushed up at the bottom corner of her glasses and favored Caroline with a grin so full of innocent anticipation it might as well have been pasted on Flora, breaking their contented reverie.

"So it opens at ten. Meaning we have just enough time to grab a second breakfast before we get there - if we scoot. It _should_ be quiet, it's not their high time and there aren't any special exhibitions. But you know, if we get there early I bet we'll have the run of the place."

Caroline's lips pressed out in a stifled laugh and her eyes grew wide and impressed. It was another look on her Melanie adored - Caroline utterly surprised by being impressed by anyone else in the room.

"What's so funny?"

"I thought that you, Miss Melanie, and I quote, 'didn't have the time of day for that place.'"

Mel rolled her eyes and smiled at her own idiosyncrasies. "Oh Caroline you know me. I can't help myself. I have to know everything about everything, even if I don't think I'm interested."

Caroline came around to place a kiss on the top of Melanie's head. "You do. Love that."

"Alright then. Like Mary Poppins says, spit spot – let's go!" Melanie handed their tea mugs to Caroline and dashed off to the bedroom. She spared a mischievous glance back to see Caroline's shoulders shaking, her eyes closed and her head nodding back and forth in utter amusement. Mission accomplished.

* * *

The long walk away from the sea and into the city had started as a trudge - both of them still heavy hearted for the shadow that had fallen over them, the grim curiosity about the fate that Brian Shadforth had likely been unwilling in meeting. The rain wouldn't stop falling and they were each trapped in their own world under the turned-up hoods of their rain jackets, little chance for any real conversation.

But as they'd approached the Pavilion the rain had tapered. And when Caroline had finally begged off after two-hours inside staring at ornate draperies, upholstery, and finish-work that shamed Buckingham Palace, she'd been delighted to see the sun make an appearance. She grabbed an earl grey from the museum café and finally sat down to enjoy a moment of peace and quiet.

She leaned back against the dark-green metal work of the only free bench in the Pavilion gardens and closed her eyes. The sun shone on her, weakly warm but full and strong and turning the insides of her lids pink. The world smelled of wet grass and damp sod, touched with salinity - filled with the sounds of birds who jumped and flapped from limb to limb heralding the fortunate turn of the weather. A smile crept across her lips as she reclined.

She and Melanie had been on their feet since leaving the flat. 'Second breakfast' had really only been a stop to grab pierogis at a take-away window well out of their way to the Royal Pavilion. Caroline couldn't figure how in the world Melanie had ever, ever tracked the place down, but that was Melanie. She wanted what she wanted, and she figured a way to get it no matter what.

Her break was a short one. A portly man in a burgundy sweater one size too small for him grunted as he plopped down beside her. His brown tweed coat was one size too large, but did little to cover the show his blue oxford button-down made under his sweater and over his generous stomach. He wore grey corduroys, the only thing that fit appropriately. But they were stained in at least three places. Likely more, but she wasn't interested in gathering an exact count.

Taken in whole, Caroline was repulsed.

He turned to her, his eyes blood-shot and his nose purple. He dipped his head. "Nice day."

A foul brew of stale gin and chips fried in day-old grease washed over her as he spoke.

She turned her head, winced and exhaled. "Yep."

Now settled in next to her, he took up the relaxed pose she'd so recently struck. Head tilted to the sun, eyes closed, and hands clasped over his girth in peaceful reflection.

Internally Caroline's well-heeled manners and acidic nature slugged it out as she considered how long she wanted to wait before getting up.

The man belched, covered his mouth and mumbled "pardon."

She followed her nature. "Well I'm off." It wasn't so much a polite way to part, as her way of letting him know how offensive he and his sloppy self had turned the moment.

Eyes still closed and apparently blissful, he waved her away.

Her boots took her through the wet grass and back to the crunching goldenrod gravel path. She tossed the remainder of her tea into a nearby rubbish bin and started back to the museum to find Melanie. It was a glorious day, for the moment, and she wanted to hold hands and stroll down the boardwalk next to the sea. The wet was supposed to roll back in later, and she wanted to seize the sunny moment.

Across the gardens a small man with thinning, sandy colored hair combed over his balding head was standing in the shade next to one of the great front columns, watching the world come and go through the main entrance. He had his own innocuous white cup of something, and a newspaper tucked under his arm. For all purposes looking as though he was simply waiting for his lollygagging wife to emerge and whisk him away to their next uninteresting stop. It was Dave, her new bad penny.

Unease filled her again and she frowned at it; quickened her pace and felt a new urgency in locating Melanie.

* * *

Melanie paused to dwell in the familiar bazaar of patterns and colors that blanketed the music room at the Royal Pavilion. Growing up in Kochi, in India, she'd developed an organic craving for the richness of visual texture so abundant in her homeland and so often missing in England.

She loved England, her adopted homeland. She loved Harrogate - the quiet, the peace, the comfortable entitlement of the people and a country so long used to occupying the luxuries of the first world. She loved rain that wasn't hot and didn't incubate bugs as large as they were colorful.

She hadn't chosen Harrogate, but she was grateful every day for her life there. Even more so now that it included Caroline Dawson, who was taking advantage of a welcome break in the rain to bask in the sun outside in the pristine gardens. Another thing to love – English gardens. So unruly and carefully un-curated by their standards, and so disciplined and cultivated by hers.

Melanie could spend hours in museums. She couldn't stand to rush. Caroline couldn't linger. She read what she came to read, saw what she came to see, and that was that. It was another thing she'd come to love about her, and today a thing she'd counted on.

She and Caroline had arrived early, and it had been quiet. It was midday now, and there was a regular flow of visitors coming and going. Enough to blend in, but few enough that you could easily see who surrounded you.

A blonde woman, Caroline's height and build and fitting Caroline's description in so many ways, came in through a door opposite Melanie and approached her. She definitely resembled Caroline from a distance, you could easily mistake them. But she'd only have a passing resemblance close up – and only if Caroline's eyes were prematurely lined with age and her face hollowed and hardened by a type of life she'd never want to live.

"I'm sorry, Melanie."

"It's alright, Leann. These things happen. We all need help sometimes."


	9. It Was a Private Conversation

"Misty's back at the flat. I don't want to leave her for long. She's a good girl, but -" Leann glanced over Melanie's shoulder and then back over her own.

Melanie nodded. Six-year-old girls with mums on the run had a second sense about being good. But that good sense only outlasted their curiosity so long. "What happened, Leann? Why are you still here in Brighton?"

"The money I brought with me is gone. All of it." Leann pulled a tie from her wrist and put her shoulder-length blonde hair up in a loose pony tail.

Melanie watched her hands flash by, an occasional mark or scar still on them over her thin veins. All old and healed, some well, others less so. The abused hands stuck out of a long puffy pink jacket that had to have once looked expensive. Now it was covered in enough use to make it look cheap and second-hand.

"How? You said you had more than enough." Melanie looked down at Leann's hands again, and more closely at her neck, barely peeking out of a scarf that used to be cream-colored.

"It's not my fault – I didn't – I'm clean. It was my bloody bitch of a sister. She – damnit. I knew I shouldn't -" Leann's face pinched and her eyes caught an empty, dead look Melanie suspected she'd learned from her husband, Nigel. The husband who wanted her back. Not because he loved her, but because of what she knew. She was too valuable to be let out of sight, and the daughter was old enough to cause trouble.

Melanie had known things too, once. She blinked rapidly and sighed, and placed a hand on Leann's arm.

"She stole it?"

"Nah." Leann turned her watery gaze up at the ornate chandeliers hanging from the kaleidoscope ceiling of the music room. Melanie did the same, and to her they were beautiful but tragic. Glowing drops of wealth, each valuable enough to solve all of this woman's problems and totally out of reach. "But she took me for a couple thousand pounds and took off. Extortion. Blackmail. Whatever you want to call it. She was nicer than I thought she would be when I rang her asking for help, if I could stay. Now I know why. I don't pay, she finds out who wants me and turns me over."

"Right." Melanie squeezed the arm she'd been holding and looked Leann square in her prematurely worn face. Deep wrinkles, scrubbed clean and neat, no makeup or concealer. Shadows of freckles that would pepper her face, given enough time in the sun. Eyes that were rimmed with red, but clear - stretched with mind-bending anxiety, but not desperation. Skin pale, but not pallid. "You're telling me the truth, aren't you?"

"I am."

"Okay." Melanie's dark hair shook back and forth. She ran a hand through it at her greying temple. "We can fix this. We can get you back on track. It's only about a days delay."

She ran her hand down Leann's arm and then rested it on her own hip. She brought the other up and placed a couple fingers over her lips and gazed out the imposing floor-to-ceiling windows - to see Caroline marching double time toward the Pavilion and presumably toward her. It was impossible to mistake Caroline's 'on a mission' strut.

"Shit."

"What?" Leann followed Melanie's gaze and her eyes darted across the people strolling by outside. "Have you seen someone?"

"Yes. Someone I don't want knowing about you. Yet. And you have no reason to know her. So let's scoot." Melanie looked down at her slender rose-gold watch and back up toward the grand hallway, already picturing Caroline walking in on them.

Melanie took Leann by her grungy, pink puffy arm and guided her out and toward the Saloon – opposite the main entrance. She clipped right along, thinking about Caroline's long purposeful strides.

Leann scowled at her, but didn't tug her arm away. "Okay, Melanie. Okay. I don't need to blow anything for you. But my problem isn't solved. Misty and I need to get out of Brighton."

"I know. We can talk about that. Just not here." Melanie glanced around, and pushed through a door marked 'No Admittance.' She closed it without a sound and turned back to a perplexed Leann.

"Leads to the rooms upstairs. Private tours come through on the hour. We should be alright for a breather." Melanie couldn't help but take a second to notice the steep, winding staircase next to them. The alcove was a stark contrast to the rich colors and textures just outside it. Dingy and worn wood floors and steps that led up and up, hugged by walls that began as warm yellow and gave way to peeling plaster. She craned her neck for better look.

Leann threw her arms out in a 'what the hell' gesture. "Hullo. Melanie. You're a curious one. Good for you. But like I said, I've got an agenda here."

"Sorry. Can't help myself. And you're glad I do my homework."

"Maybe, but let's move this along." Leann glanced over her shoulder. "Not that I'm not grateful."

"I'm sure you are." Melanie inhaled and crossed her arms, glaring at Leann. She wanted the woman out - away from Nigel Pulling. She couldn't bear to see anyone stuck in a trap created by a man named Pulling, even if Leann had walked into it willingly. Deception and temptation were simple snares to lay and seldom wore the same disguise. It was easy to want to judge this woman. But sometimes glass houses were a bit opaque. They could be dangerous, unknowable structures with windows covered in murky dust, making it hard to judge from either side what was happening. What was really right, or really wrong.

"Melanie. Hullo. What I was just saying about being in a hurry – getting back to Misty." Leann's brown eyes widened and the impatience Melanie saw in them was laced with that compelling, sharp anxiety.

"I can get you more money. And I can make sure the right people are in the right place to meet you tomorrow. Once you're out of England you'll be much safer. From there – I think my friends will get you on your feet. But it'll really all be up to you."

"Okay." Leann's eyes were still big and the anxiety in them was starting to give way to fear.

"You'll be fine. When you get out, get help. You can reach out, access services. Nigel's good, but he's not that good. At least, he shouldn't be." Melanie frowned up at the square, mullioned windows lining the staircase. The only source of light in the tiny room but still bright with the midday sun. "He's got his kingdom. But he's not omniscient."

"You don't sound so sure."

Melanie reached out again. "Use your head. Trust yourself. You'll know what's right, and you'll be very, very careful, yes?" She wasn't sure what Nigel Pulling was up to these days, really. But she _did_ know that Leann, alone on the run with Misty, was about as likely to stay clean and sober as the sun was to rise in the west tomorrow. Or as likely as Caroline not asking her where the hell she'd gotten to this afternoon.

Caroline. Melanie had been dropping hints all weekend. All month. Not hints, per se. But insinuations - flares - to see if she'd even think twice about anything Melanie said. Trying to get Caroline to start a conversation Melanie didn't want to have. And Caroline hadn't noticed anything until well-meaning Brian Shadforth had thrown a spanner in the works. That was just Caroline's nature. Too busy being adorably impressed and wrapped up in herself to notice what was right under her nose.

"Okay." Leann shuffled her dingy blue and white trainers across the battered wood floor.

Melanie tilted Leann's chin up. "I'll bring you cash. Eight hundred pounds. It'll get you out and on your way."

A slow bob of Leann's head and what was easily read as a humble reluctance to look Melanie in the eye.

"Tomorrow morning. I'll meet you next near the pier, okay? I'll text you where exactly when I figure it out a quiet spot. Let's say four-thirty am."

No worries there about Caroline waking and finding her missing. Or, if she were, it would be easily explained as another of her curious early morning explorations.

"Leann." Melanie moved her head in time with the other woman's as Leann did her best to avoid her gaze, until she finally gave in and let Melanie offer comfort. "You can do this."

"Yeah I can. Misty and I can. And we can partly because of you. So – thanks."

"Nigel is my fault. You're supposed to dig a weed out by the roots, and not stop until you get all of it." Another glance from Melanie back up the stairs, to the windows and the rooms above.

Leann narrowed her eyes at Melanie. "I know you know Nigel. But I can't tell how, and you never said." Leann's eyes shot wide again. "Are you a cop or something?"

Melanie shook her head vehemently. "No. I was someone in a bad situation, and I decided to do something about it. Your Nigel was a part of that, a long time ago."

Leann looked down as she picked at the short, grimy fingernails of her thumbs. "Glad you got out of your situation."

"Me too. But I'm not glad I left it like it was – a trap for others to fall in. I shouldn't have done that."

"Well, you're doing something now. Eight hundred quid is something. Getting me help – that's just as good. So again – thank you."

"Yes. Now. Moving along. We both need to scoot. The last thing I want is to see someone who shouldn't be standing on the other side of this door, and us walking out together like best mates. So head for the rafters and make your own way back out this door – give me five minutes, if you please?"

"Yeah. I will. Thank you."

Melanie turned to leave, and a thought struck her out of the blue. She couldn't believe she'd almost forgotten. "You know that Nigel's man Dave is on you – right?"

"Oh yeah. He's easy enough to spot." Leann rolled her eyes and fiddled with her coat sleeves at her wrists.

"He always was."

"I've seen Mitch, too, but I've kept clear of him." Leann fiddled a little more intensely and studied her trainers again.

"Mitch? Mitch Griffiths? No!" Melanie's mouth parted and she inhaled sharply. She'd never figured that boy would last another month without going to prison, much less be roaming the streets today. Her confidence in the situation plummeted, but she kept the doubt off her face. Again she chastised herself. Leaving someone else to suffer for a job she should have finished. Running was a selfish way to solve a problem.

"That's what the cops call him when they come asking. Mitch Griffiths."

"Steer clear of him. All the way. If you see Dave, you just ignore him and keep your other eye out for Mitch. Do you hear me?"

"Yes I do, Melanie. You forget I know what I'm dealing with."

"I'm sorry. I'm – I think I've started to get worried about you? And Misty." Following a sudden but familiar impulse, Melanie pulled the other woman in for a hug. She wasn't much more than a stranger, but still someone badly used and looking to make her life better. Worth helping and worth caring about. And with a young girl who could no more be offered up as collateral damage than – well – than Caroline or her family could.

Leann hugged her back. She sniffled and swiped at her nose with her coat. "Thanks, Melanie."

A quick nod from Melanie, with shining green eyes and her own sniffle as her throat grew tight. But for the sake of Leann she put on a buoyant smile. "Keep a look out. Be well. Be safe. See you tomorrow."

Leann started up the stairs and Melanie wished she were following her, away from her troubles. The Leann situation had been a completely different one when she and Caroline had come to Brighton. She'd been so close to saying something – wanting to believe she could bring Caroline in and open the doors she'd locked between them. But she realized that now was not the time, and Brighton not the place. Perhaps even Harrogate was dangerous, now. Her only option was to follow through and get them both home. To trust that as it always had, the right path would open up before her.


	10. Do You Realize?

Caroline blew up through her bangs and checked her mobile again. She'd roamed the entire bloody pavilion and still not a sign of Melanie in person or via text.

The sound of her boots tapping on the carpet was far less satisfying than the sound of a nice pair of heels on tile, but the motion still did the trick as she exhibited her dissatisfaction for all the world to see.

To top it off, the clouds were rolling back in. If she couldn't locate Melanie shortly, the romantic seaside walk would be a non-starter.

She shook her head and muttered under her breath. "Why, why, why are we in bloody Brighton?"

"Because it's the gayest place around, at least as far as I could tell!" Melanie surprised Caroline from the side and wrapped her arms around her waist. "Have I kept you waiting?"

"You have." Caroline did her best to look stern, trying to pretend Melanie was a pack of boys caught behind the gym with fags and matches and not her adoring girlfriend. She failed miserably as Melanie's green eyes shone with contrition.

"I'm so, so sorry. I was completely caught up in the royal apartments." Melanie pulled out her mobile and opened up several Google tabs and started scrolling through them. "You see they've been quite meticulously restored and – "

Caroline held up a hand. "Alright. No need for the lecture. You got lost in history. It's your thing, and I won't deprive you of it, Miss Melanie. But it's more than high time we move on."

"Agreed." Melanie took Caroline's hands in hers and pushed up on her toes to kiss her cheek.

Caroline chuckled and held fast to Melanie's hands and searched her green eyes. "One little kiss and I'm wrapped around your finger. How do you do it?"

"Love."

A shadow passed through Caroline's mind, and she hoped it didn't show on her face. Love indeed. When did love stop being enough? Not today. Today Melanie's adoring grin was plenty enough.

"Well, love, I want a walk and some fresh sea air."

"And – ice cream?"

"Of course." Caroline rolled her eyes at the ceiling and got what she wanted as they strolled out hand in hand.

They passed through the great doors and out into the still sunny day. Caroline's mood continued to brighten. She wished Flora were here with them to take in the colorful patchwork of the garden, what must be a million varieties of birds, and the occasional scampering critter scurrying across their path.

"Can we stop a moment?"

Melanie smiled and ran her eyes across the expanse of the gardens and then toward the Pavilion. "Of course."

Caroline smiled back and squeezed her hand. Grateful for the day and grateful for the steady peace enveloping her life over the past couple years. Alan and Celia reasonably healthy. Flora and Greg going great guns, and the blissful absence of John. William spreading his wings and finding his passion at Oxford. She'd brought Melanie into the picture and now – damn near perfect. Bumps here and there, her own well-cultivated troubles. The intractable grumpiness of Lawrence. But all in all the brilliant, blooming garden was a metaphor for her life that she wanted one more second to appreciate.

"Thank you." Caroline swung Melanie's hand and leaned down for a quick kiss that turned into a second, longer kiss as Caroline let the moment wash over her.

"Maybe we shouldn't stop for ice cream?" Melanie's giggled response narrowed Caroline's focus even more.

She wanted very much to continue kissing Melanie in the sunshine and the bliss that surrounded them. But she pictured herself as one of the pedestrians passing by, watching them snogging in public. So instead she leaned into Melanie's ear and whispered possible substitutions for ice cream she'd be willing to offer if they didn't stop.

"Moving right along then. Down the beach and right home, please?" Melanie's face lit with anticipation.

"Yep."

Caroline's haste grew as they approached the edge of the gardens and the sounds of Brighton edged in on the intimacy. They reached the street and she tugged Melanie along back toward the beach and the flat.

She started in disbelief and almost stopped as a woman with blonde hair and her build crossed the street a few meters ahead of them. In an instant she remembered the man at the entrance to the Pavilion as she'd come looking for Melanie, the Dave person that kept turning up.

She doubled their pace.

Melanie scowled. "Caroline. I know we're in a hurry, but – "

"It's the woman. From the carousel. With the girl. And I saw that Dave man again just earlier - who's always watching her. Something's up, Melanie."

"Now? Why now? And I don't think it's any of our business, whatever it is."

They caught the tail end of the walk sign and Caroline eased up the pace, keeping well back from the woman. She glanced around to see if 'Dave' were anywhere in sight.

"I don't want to get involved. I just want to know more – see where she's going." Caroline squinted forward to make sure she hadn't lost track of the blonde. "And what happened to all your intrigue? You were the one with all the questions earlier. What's changed?"

"Well. The police showed up, and clearly that Brian boy – well we don't know what happened with him. And now we don't know if Dave is the only person following this woman. It could be dangerous. Before it was just speculation. You weren't trying to stalk this woman, before, were you?"

Skepticism bloomed in Caroline's mind and on her face as she spared a quick glance at Melanie. "That's a change in the weather."

Melanie let out a tinkling peal of laughter. "Oh come on. You know me, Caroline. I love to assume intrigue and let my imagination roam. But that's as far as it goes. I'm not up for any real cloak and dagger." She tilted her head and continued laughing.

Caroline's blue eyes narrowed and she believed Melanie's self-deprecation – to a point. The mood of the weekend had turned, and it had nothing to do with the weather. Her inquisitive sprite of a girlfriend had changed. She'd not noticed it before, but noticing other people wasn't her bailiwick. She made a mental note about watching Melanie's mood more closely over the next few days.

For now, she let it go to concentrate on following this other woman. She wasn't sure what the point in following her was – really. Maybe just instinct. But she did want to know more.

The woman looked back over her shoulder and it didn't surprise Caroline in the least. She was expecting to be followed. Maybe not by a look alike and her Indian girlfriend, but by some –

Caroline started again, and this time she did stop in her tracks. The look on the woman's face lasted less than a second, but it had been unmistakable. She'd paused when she'd seen Melanie – she'd recognized Melanie. Twenty years watching students squirm under examination in her office wasn't wasted on Caroline. Many a tearful teenager had been brought down by that one wayward glance or the slight widening of the eyes when she stumbled upon the truth.

She was perfectly still as she watched the woman hasten away - hands jammed in her pink coat pockets. Head down and intent on whatever might be her destination. She crossed her arms over her navy slicker as she turned to Melanie. Tourists and folks about their everyday business jostled past them on the sidewalk, and this time Caroline paid them no mind.

She fixed a glacial blue stare at the stranger beside her, daring her to lie. "Do you know that woman, Melanie?"

Melanie turned her head in the direction of the disappeared blonde. She turned back to Caroline, and to Caroline's surprise, her face was covered in resolution, and not contrition. "Yes."


	11. Fight Test

"It's not what you think, Caroline."

Melanie held up her hands in a defensive gesture and cut her off mid-sentence as Caroline placed her hand on her hip, leaned forward, and pointed her index finger straight at Melanie. Angry, hurt, and ready to rumble.

The afternoon had turned cold and the walk back to the flat from the Pavilion had been silent. Unlike the soft carpet, the hard rap of her boots on the pavement had been an apt echo of Caroline's inner drumbeat of rising anger. By the time they were home, she'd worked up a scorching hot, self-righteous head of steam. One way or the other, Melanie had lied to her – and Caroline didn't do lies.

She rested both hands on her hips and stood straight as a gun barrel. She sniffed as she stared Melanie down.

"And just what do you _presume_ I think _it_ is? Because honestly I don't have a _clue_ what to think. But I'll tell you that none of my thoughts are good ones. None of them." Tears stung her eyes and she hated that Melanie might think they were anything but angry – even if they were.

' _It's not what you think, Caroline._ ' The same words that had come flying out of John's mouth when she'd confronted him about Judith, what seemed like a lifetime ago. The years between then and now evaporated as the very same emotions rushed forward to fill her with doubt and dread.

"I – I don't know what you think. But it - it was something to say. To stop you before you started. To give me a chance to explain." Melanie didn't usually stammer.

"To explain, or to buy time to think up an explanation?" She didn't intend to give an inch. Re-runs of scenes from the weekend played through her mind – the odd man following this woman Melanie knew, the police, a missing boy. Melanie's lies weren't just hurtful. They might even be dangerous.

"To – to explain. You're angry and scared Caroline, I can see that. And you should be. That's why I didn't tell you about Leann. That's her name. It's the one and only reason. Because I want you safe. Always. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." Melanie's voice shook, but still there were no tears.

Caroline opened her mouth and realized she didn't have a sharp retort at the ready. She'd been waiting for a long-winded train of excuses from Melanie, and as they didn't materialize she came up short. Short on words – but still long on fury.

They stood facing each other, a lone sunbeam shining in through the plate-glass windows and outlining a box of white-yellow light between them on the burgundy rug.

Melanie pushed up at the corner of her glasses as she stared at the floor. She stared at the floor, but she held her shoulders back and high.

 _She's not ashamed, she's just waiting._ Caroline threw her bag down on the couch and stripped off her jacket. She stalked Melanie, circling her, waiting for the right attack to come to mind or for Melanie to dig herself in deeper. The tails of her long beige cardigan swirled around her as she paced.

She came to a stop toe to toe with her quarry and cocked a hip to one side. She ran a hand up to her bangs and closed her eyes as she asked, blocking out Melanie's futile attempts to justify herself. "Who is she, Melanie, and why should I be afraid?"

Melanie nodded as she looked up at Caroline, clasping her hands at her waist. She wasn't crying, though Caroline was already a mess of tears, and that made her even angrier.

"Please, Caroline. Please give me a chance. Let me tell you the whole story."

Caroline covered both her eyes with her hands and steeled herself, willing the tears to ebb. They did, and she brought her hands back down and clapped them at her sides. Melanie kept watching her. Placid green eyes waiting to – _to tell the truth, I think._

Caroline nodded curtly. "I think you'd better."

Melanie's brow furrowed and finally tears appeared. "What I mean to say is please listen with an open heart, while I tell you the whole story. Will you sit with me?" Melanie turned toward the couch and held out a hand to Caroline.

Caroline crossed her arms over her chest and pursed her lips. She glanced down at the waning sunlight coming through the window and then out to the crashing sea in the distance. She felt outside of herself. The silence in the flat amplified the sound of the waves.

Melanie dropped her arm. She sat alone and crossed her hands in her lap, everything about her projecting a waiting, wanting patience.

Caroline turned away from her to stare at the water and try to make sense of it all. Nothing was clear, but one thought did make its way forward. _Maybe now you'll get that answer you've been wanting, when it comes to Melanie._

Then another thought. _Maybe I will get the answer_. _But will it be one I want to hear?_

Tears appeared again at the memory of John, finding out about his betrayal, and the loneliness he'd brought her. The awful feeling blossomed and spread as she stared over at Melanie. In an instant she'd been made to feel again as she had only a few years ago, after Kate. That persistent ache, pressing on her. The going on, and going on and going on from day to day. The crushing weight that was only ever lighter, but never lifted.

She hadn't even known how dead she'd felt inside. The empty space that used to hold Kate had become so smoothly walled-off she didn't even notice it any more. She'd been living in bland, grey ignorance until she'd laid eyes on Melanie Wysocki one November day, and finally realized how desperately lonely she'd really been.

* * *

 _Caroline mouthed the word "sorry" as she helped Flora off with her white fuzzy winter coat._

They were late to Mummy and Me and had come upon the low-walled reading corner in a rush. They did their best quiet-as-a-mouse impression as they settled in toward the back of the semi-circle surrounding Melanie, the children's librarian at Harrogate that Greg was so fond of. Caroline's skepticism at his fuss finally boiled over, and she'd decided to take an afternoon to come see for herself.

The woman flashed Caroline a sympathetic smile, and Caroline's mouth went dry.

It was the eyes. The lovely, clear, almond-shaped jade green eyes. They were as kind as you'd expect of someone who spent her day working with children, and as wise as you'd expect of anyone who'd made a career out of her love of books. And they were also bright, and curious, and open, and reflected all the light in the room right back at Caroline.

Without missing a beat, Melanie continued on with her reading, doing different voices for the different characters, pausing at times to ask the kids questions to keep them engaged.

Now Caroline felt nauseously self-conscious. She felt a pull from Melanie and to Melanie, as though she were under scrutiny every second of the dramatic reading of _The Gruffalo._

She tried her best to focus on Flora, but it felt more as though she were making a show of it. She tried to catch the librarian's eyes at every pause, but avoided holding her gaze. When she did for any more than a second she felt a charge. A rush of a challenge accepted and won, as though she'd proven something to herself – and to the other woman.

After the reading ended the group broke apart to work on art projects at tiny plastic tables scattered throughout the room. Caroline folded herself into a creaking miniature chair and tried to look attractive as she did so. She tugged at the back of her sweater, terrified her jeans were riding too low and showing god knows what to god knows who.

Melanie made her way around the small tables, stopping to give each child encouragement. When she came to Flora, she introduced herself with a firm handshake and a smile that filled Caroline with sunshine. It almost compelled her to spontaneously list off every generous thing she'd done for anyone in the past week.

"No Greg today? I love the energy he brings to our art projects. Tell him he was missed." Melanie laid a hand on Caroline's shoulder as she leaned in close to examine Flora's drawing.

Caroline reminded herself to breathe normally as the full, soft cotton of the other woman's bright orange sweater and her thick dark hair hovered just inches away from her face.

She didn't look up, didn't move at all as she responded, afraid that if she did there'd be – awkward – contact and she'd drown right there in a sea of embarrassed, ecstatic agony.

"I asked Greg if he minded _my_ coming for a change as Flora raves about how much fun she has with you. I've been hearing all about this _Mother Goose on the Loose_ program. It's very clever. And you're a natural with the children." She was, and it piled on to the favorable assumptions Caroline was already making about this woman's character and intelligence.

She felt as though the words were pouring out of her, unattached to each other and sounding less coherent as they did. _Shut your mouth, Caroline._

She fixed her attention firmly on her daughter. Flora pushed her tongue out a little and bit as she concentrated on her coloring, griping the brown crayon tightly in her fist while putting a bushy tail on her horse. Caroline assumed it was a horse - it had four legs, a long neck and what might pass as a mane.

Just as Caroline recovered herself enough to savor the weight of Melanie's hand resting on her shoulder, it was gone. Melanie and Flora exchanged happy glances and giggles and the librarian moved on to the next table.

After Flora finished her drawing, they went to pick out books for the week. Three was the established maximum, though Flora always tried to sneak a fourth. Caroline scanned the children's section before they checked out and was disappointed she didn't see Melanie to say goodbye.

She wanted a chance to look in those eyes just one more time. She _wanted_ a chance to ask the woman out, but heaved a huge sigh of relief that she wouldn't actually have to do so today. Gay, straight, or in between, this woman was worth taking the chance. Caroline wasn't afraid of much, and falling on her face asking for a date wasn't part of the 'much.' Getting rid of the fatigue of her loneliness was certainly worth the temporary pain of putting herself out there. People took risks because on occasion they offered reward.

But she also wanted to regroup. She wasn't self-consciously mute, she wasn't the silly school girl she'd just felt, but a single mum, a serious academic and a formidable professional who'd earned everything she had - the hard way. She wanted the chance to not act like a bloody teenager all over her new crush.

* * *

Now, as Caroline evaluated Melanie in the cool Brighton afternoon, her eyes were still as wise and kind as they'd been the first time she'd ever seen her. But they were also guarded and afraid. An expression Caroline had never seen on the woman before, and one she didn't particularly want to see on her now - or ever again.

Her memories had turned back the clock on some of her anger. Fought back against the spreading net of fear neurons running rampant across her mind and trying to block out any weakness. If she let herself feel it, knowing that this woman she loved was hurting made her want to wrap her up and tell her that whatever _it_ was, it would be OK. Seeing the effervescent Melanie Wysocki wounded and scared felt wrong and out of place. A juxtaposition that elicited an instinct to _fix it_. She felt as though she were watching an orchid wilt right before her eyes in time lapse. Turn limp and brown in a second, in an unnatural way that threatened what was good about the order of things. Being hard with Melanie made Caroline feel small.

Fine. She could listen. Melanie would still have to accept and deal with the consequences of her actions. But Caroline could, perhaps, be generous as she did so, rather than harsh.

She finally came to sit on the couch next to her. "Alright. Start at the beginning. Tell me everything, Melanie." 'This is your one and only chance' was clear in her tone.

Melanie took in a deep breath and closed her eyes. Gratitude passed across her face, but quickly it was gone. In its place came that same show of resolve from that awful moment of realization on the sidewalk.

She took Caroline's hands in hers and held them tight. As the final expression Melanie would wear before her story began covered her face, it made Caroline start to feel just a bit foolish for her anger and her quick temper.

Apparently Melanie had accepted both Caroline's fiery rage and her icy chill of contempt. She'd taken them in and tempered them. Her fledgling smile offered them back as a compassionate acceptance for the maelstrom born of pricking at Caroline's tender vulnerability.

"There are so many things I never tried to hide from you, Caroline. You just haven't managed to see them, have you?"


	12. Trouble Again

"Hold on a minute."

Caroline shaded her eyes and winced at the low sunlight blaring through the windows and blacking out Melanie in front of her. It shone alternately in and out of the clouds, changing the texture and the quality of the light in the living room. She held up a finger and went to the front of the flat to lower the blinds. As the sun beat on her she felt flushed.

Across the street a man sat on the retaining wall edging the road. She squinted to make him out better. He was eating an ice cream cone. Taking his time about it. Deliberate, small bites. He was also taking his time about studying her, the same deliberate consumption.

He might as well be Brian Shadforth's older brother. A boulder of a man in jeans, a chambray work shirt, and a barn coat that could have wrapped Caroline twice. She took her time in drawing down the folding linen shades, though her heart slammed in her chest.

She spun to face Melanie. "There's a man. I know – well I don't know for sure. But I think – he's watching us."

"It's Mitch. He's a part of this. I noticed him as we were walking home. Thought he might keep moving." Without the blinding sun Caroline could clearly see the trepidation on Melanie's face. But pasted over with confidence, and again, that resolve as the situation shifted under their feet. "When will the Jeep be ready, Caroline?"

 _Noticed him?_ Caroline wouldn't have noticed if they'd stepped back in _time_ during the walk home. Was she really so oblivious? Or was Melanie really so much more than she'd ever given her credit?

"Shouldn't we call the police?"

Melanie scowled, and shifted. "When will the Jeep be ready?"

"We don't have to tell them why we think the man is there. Only that he is, and we're uncomfortable." Caroline's heart continued to pound and she sought familiar solutions to her fear. This time external ones. She had never in her life been in a situation where police might make things worse. She felt resentment at Melanie try to work its way into her cacophony of emotions, and she didn't see a reason it couldn't be added to the mix.

The question on Melanie's face remained and her eyes widened imploring Caroline to answer.

She shook her head and waved her hand. "They said we can pick it up tomorrow morning."

"Can we get it tonight?" Melanie didn't stir from the couch, but spared another glance at the window. "We can call the police. But I'd like to have more options, when we do. And can I explain myself to you first? If Mitch hasn't come to us yet, he's not likely to. He's impulsive, direct. If he wanted to – talk – we'd be talking right now."

Caroline's blue eyes widened and she paused. "I see." Melanie's assurances did little to calm her. "Let me call the shop. About the Jeep."

She went to her bag and fished out the mobile. A text from from Lawrence and missed calls from Celia and Gillian. She dismissed the notifications and rang the shop. She exhaled when they picked up, not realizing she'd been holding her breath.

"Hullo. Yes – it's Caroline Dawson."

"Yes. Yes you have my Jeep. For tomorrow, I understand. I'm wondering if I can't pick it up tonight."

"I understand, yes I know you said the morning. I'm asking if it's possible to get it tonight."

"Two hours?"

She looked over to Melanie, who nodded.

"Yes okay. We'll be by to pick it up."

She clicked off and turned back to Melanie, who stood.

"Just for now, Caroline, will you trust me? Just for now. I – understand if your trust can't go beyond where we are right now, what's happening here." Melanie's green eyes began to shine. The situation itself didn't seem to affect her. But apparently the potential consequences on her relationship to Caroline brought her emotions to the surface.

"You need to understand that this is all new to me, Melanie. All of this. It's – it's so completely outside my world." Caroline perched on the edge of the couch and worried at a kleenex she'd dug out of her coat.

"I do, Caroline, I do. And I'm so sorry. I wanted to keep it outside your world. I thought I could. That this weekend I could be shut of it and try to move on, finally. That years from now I could tell you more, and it would all be a foggy, vague memory that couldn't touch us, affect us with any real substance. That it would be safe for both of us."

 _Years from now._ Words Caroline would love to hear, under any other circumstance.

"But you see, Melanie, by then we'd have a life built on lies. And I've tried that already. Didn't end well." Caroline wrinkled her nose at the other woman.

"I've not lied to you. Everything I've told you – the facts of it all, my life – it's all true." Melanie crossed her arms and walked over to the window to look out.

"You've just conveniently left out some of the more – important aspects?" Caroline stood again. The appearance of the man outside the flat underscored her anxiety, why this deception made her so deeply angry.

But as Melanie's pleading patience continued, she quieted. "Alright. I'm not going to interrupt you every other sentence. Perhaps you should begin at the beginning and fill in the details."

"I think that would work well." Melanie looked grateful. She unwrapped her crimson red and gold patterned scarf and played with the fringe. "But we need to keep moving while I do. I'm sorry. If it's okay with you, we need to be ready to leave here, Caroline."

For all her anger and confusion, Caroline couldn't help but agree. Police or no police, she hardly wanted to be alone in the flat tonight. She nodded her head and followed Melanie into the bedroom. Caroline pulled their suitcases from the closet, and Melanie started her tale as they packed.

"As I said, it's all true, all the milestones. I grew up in Kochi, India. In the south. My father worked with my mother's family, fishing out of the tiny harbor at Thoppumpady. Enough skipjack and horse mackerel each day to keep me and my brothers and my sister in school, so we didn't have to work at the harbor. It's everything, it was everything, when I think back on it. How Kochi was at the time. Small boats and small dreams and big families everywhere around us. And fish, and the sea, and dirty harbors. There aren't nearly enough smells, in England, Caroline. It can be so sterile here."

"My father – he loved Kochi too. Enough to stay in India with my mother, to leave England and make a life and a family in a tiny shack off the coast of a place in India none of his family had ever heard of. When he moved there in the sixties there was almost nothing of the West at all in Kochi. Culture or people. He'd been in the Royal Navy, met mum, and that was that when he got out. Always said it was her green eyes that sold him."

Caroline agreed with Melanie on this point, and looked up with a small smile. They stood on opposite sides of the bed, folding clothes and tucking them into their suitcases. Melanie was moving slowly, working with a studied calm that kept Caroline's heart rate at a reasonable pace. It mellowed her to hear Melanie talk about her family and her childhood, because when she did a trance came over Melanie, one she'd never thought of as sad, until right now.

"I was the youngest in the family. By the time I was eighteen my brothers had started to do well. Kochi started to fill up with tourists and with promise. A second boat in the family made a lot more money as a charter for rich white men who measured themselves by the size of the fish they caught. One small boat led to two. Two led to an opportunity for me to come to England to study."

Caroline sniffed as her tears subsided, feeling more on-balance. Almost feeling as though she'd already forgotten why Melanie was telling her this now. But every so often she'd think of the man and the ice cream cone, and the pit in her stomach would return, and she'd wish none of this had happened. That they could rewind and she'd have the Melanie back she thought she knew. But that wasn't how she lived her life anymore, hiding from truths. "I know your father was initially from Manchester – that's how you ended up studying there?"

Melanie smiled and nodded. "Yes. Not exactly the first place you'd think a young woman on her own from India would pick. But it was where I had family. So there I was – the City College of Manchester, as it was back then – they were friendly to international students. And my aunt let me stay above their shop."

"That's when you learned to love English fish and chips?" Caroline couldn't forestall the twinkle in her eye quickly enough, and it was hard to recover her look of disapproval as Melanie laughed at her joke and at herself.

"To love and to cook properly. At least how your lot here enjoys it. Bland." Melanie made a joke of it back, and Caroline didn't rebuff her attempts to warm the chill in the air.

"Three meals a day, most days for almost four years. Before I started up with Richard."

"Throw in pot noodles and Walkers crisps and you're describing _my_ diet from university days." Caroline sighed and leaned against the bed, staring at the ceiling. John, a flat, and a single electric burner. She tried to cast a romantic haze over all of it, but even now she couldn't.

"It's a wonder we're still alive sometimes, isn't it?" Melanie's voice brought Caroline back to now and back to trying to be angry. It was so hard to stay angry at Mel. With John it could last days. His being on the outside of the relationship never really bothered her. But with Mel – even after an hour she felt lonely. Even in her anger she realized she was turning to Mel to try and fix things - together.

"So you studied at Manchester. I remember that. You studied to become a teacher, at the primary level."

"Yes, I did. But that's not what I ended up doing – not how I finished. I actually started an apprenticeship program. In energy systems. Last of its kind, really. Program died, and my plans died with it."

"So there I was in Manchester. Starting to get serious with Richie and not wanting to go home. I would have been a failure, you see, if I'd gone back right then. As though my brothers had thrown away money on me that the family could have used – in so many other ways. They'd invested so much, and all I had was a degree no woman in India could really use at the time, and a dead-end apprenticeship here in Manchester. So I started looking at my options. Where else I might go, perhaps try London or America. But in the meantime, I was stuck."

"And Richie, well, he was never one to miss an opportunity. Me being stuck was just right for him."

Melanie closed her suitcase. She walked out to the living room. She tipped back the shade and Caroline wondered if Mitch were still on the other side of the road. Perhaps he was now snacking on crisps.

"I was stuck, but Richie wasn't. He finished university, but for him it was just a medal on his chest. He'd always been lined up to take over his dad's appliance business. 'Pulling's your pal for sales and service.' Had commercials on radio and tele, a real empire."

"Still was an empire when Richie finished, but a different kind all together. Richie was a titan, no doubt. Did more for heroin in Manchester than any other man in England. The 90's in the North West belonged to Richie Pullings, as far as the drug trade went."

Caroline let out a long sigh. It was essentially what she'd expected to hear. Not that she wanted to. Nor did she want to hear about Melanie's involvement – coerced or not. Neither scenario eased her pain. She closed her own suitcase and set it next to Melanie's by the bedroom door.

A quick glance at the bedroom and then they both descended on the kitchen and began clearing the dishwasher and the fridge. It was still well-stocked, but neither of them cared about preserving a few yogurts and cheeses. Though Caroline did feel it physically as she poured half a bottle of cabernet down the sink.

"We married. Richie bought us a place, lovely cottage in Worsley on the canal. He worked for his family, and so did I. He went out on calls, I worked in the office in accounts, his dad on the sales floor. All such a nice end for me, it seemed, for a few years."

Melanie paused and tugged at a dishtowel in her hands.

"I think you can paint the rest of the picture. The appliance repair business was just about the best cover Richie could come up with, to move the product and the money. His dad retired, bad heart that caught up with him not long after he left the company. I took over the books with fresh eyes, and curious ones. Didn't take long to figure things out. Didn't take long before Richie figured out that I had. I think he expected me to embrace it? I don't know. But I kept quiet about it. Pretended I hadn't noticed. It was absolutely the wrong thing. Because then it got bad, Caroline. It got very bad. I spent the next two years wondering when I'd walk into a dark house or a dark room and never walk out."

"Melanie." Caroline stepped forward and hugged her girlfriend. It was a reflexive gesture and no matter where they were headed together in the future, the past had been hard for Melanie in a way that squeezed Caroline's heart and stung her eyes. "I'm sorry."

Melanie half-laughed and half-sobbed before snuffling and pulling back. She looked toward the window and Caroline wondered how she could be so composed at this ghost from her past come to life.

"What _happened_ Melanie – and what does this have to do with that Mitch person, or Leann?"

Melanie nodded. "Mitch was with Richie - before he was with Nigel. Came up with Nigel when they were both with Richie."

Caroline frowned and her wheels turned. Melanie caught on. "Nigel Pullings - he's the big bad wolf now – that's Leann's husband."

"Nigel Pullings?" Caroline tried to follow all the connected surnames. She wondered if Melanie had changed her name back from Pullings – or all together.

Melanie sniffed. "I know. It's actually very simple. I'll explain. I will. I'm so sorry. But Caroline I have to tell you – everything – that happened with Richie first."

Caroline nodded back with a whispered 'okay' as she felt her stomach tighten. Melanie's volume faded as she continued.

"I spent two years in abject terror. But I planned as well. I looked for a way out. I was afraid of the police, afraid of my own complicit actions, even if it was turning a blind eye. No one wants to go to jail, Caroline." It felt as though Melanie tried to challenge Caroline with her look, but the steely blue gaze she received drove her eyes to the floor as she began to wrap her story.

"In any case, I finally figured it. I wasn't often alone, but I could speak to my family in Malayalam. Not for long, and certainly not often. And I could post letters here and there, though of course I didn't dare have any come to the house in return. But it was enough to see a way clear. One that meant I didn't have to keep looking over my shoulder for the rest of my life, one that would keep my family safe too."

A chill came back into the kitchen, and a stillness into both Caroline and Melanie. The sun dipped back behind a cloud on the horizon and the apartment dimmed. Neither of them moved to flip on the lights.

"I convinced Richie to let my family visit. My mother, dad, my two oldest brothers. He agreed that they could come if they stayed in Manchester with my aunt. We were never all alone together. Dave – the man you've seen – or Mitch – was with us the whole time. Sometimes Nigel. But one day Richie decided to make a show of it for my family and we all went to Liverpool. My dad – my brothers – they bragged at Richie about the fishing boats at home, the charters. It was too much for him. Drug kings and egos, they go together."

"Richie got us a charter. Off the books of course. Cash up front. Mum and I stayed back, escorted by Dave. Tried to make a bright day of it at the shops. Chirping and laughing and pretending that everything wasn't going to be very different and very dangerous in a few hours."

Caroline put a hand to her mouth as she imagined how the tale would play out – mostly.

"My father and my two oldest brothers, Rohan and Jai, went out on the boat with Richard that morning. Only Rohan and Jai came back."


	13. Night Moves

"What I want to know, Dave, is why you never said nothing about Melanie being mixed up in all this." Mitch snuffed a cigarette on his shoe and tossed it at a puddle in the dark empty alley.

"I did, to Nigel. It's how I figured this other blonde must be Leann's sister, the way the two of them hung together. And how I figured Leann was close. Not my fault he didn't say something to you." Dave fidgeted with the knife in the pocket of his coat and paced.

"Yeah and you cocked that up real good. The sister. Fffft. Not even close." Mitch rubbed his hands together in the cold night air and took a step toward the much smaller man.

"And what I also want to know, Dave, is why you haven't grabbed Leann yet."

"What? Just off the street? Broad daylight? And without the girl? Yeah that'd be smart, Mitch. That'd be why Nigel has you running point on this." Dave shrugged at Mitch's accusations of incompetency and stepped away, but he sneered up. "Oh wait. He doesn't."

"He would if there was only one of us."

Dave scoffed. "If there was only one of us I wouldn't of had to help that boy working the carousel see how much better off he'd be moving on. And there wouldn't be police making house calls on Melanie and this woman and keeping them all on tip toes, would there?"

"Well least now we got a twenty on Leann. Thanks to me." Mitch puffed his chest and walked toward the front of the alley, back to the van.

Dave kicked a used tin of beans to the side and leaned on the scuzzy brick wall behind him, and lit his own cigarette. Mitch had indeed pinned Leann down, aided by Leann's actual sister calling Nigel with a sweet offer.

She was buttoned up tight as a drum in the flat, but she'd have to leave sometime. When she did, dumb, quick and strong right there would happily escort her into the waiting delivery van he'd arranged specially for the trip back to Manchester.

He sucked hard on the cigarette and the tip flared in the night. He eyed the mountain of a man in front of him. Sure enough, one way or the other, Mitch wanted to finish this job for the both of them.

* * *

"Caroline – no."

Melanie literally raised her foot to stomp it down and turned her toe into the low-pile beige carpeting of the hotel room.

Caroline laughed and it had a sharp edge to it. Both hands on her hips she completely dismissed Melanie's objections with a shake of her head and a wave as she paced.

"I'm sorry but there's no question. Either we call the police right now, I'm going with you to meet Leann, or both."

Outside the drawn shades of their latest landing pad the night was dark and the moon covered by clouds. They'd left the flat as the sun was setting. The man watching them had departed as soon as their car had arrived to take them to the repair shop to fetch the Jeep. Caroline had peered around the shades and watched him stroll off down the sidewalk, headed toward the pier and the carousel that felt sinister to her now.

Even the sun going down, the crimson and amber and coral watercolors painted on the patchy clouds, seemed sinister. Not at all the romantic Brighton getaway she'd planned for, emotionally or logistically. She'd heaved a sigh at it as they piled their bags into the taxi, gaze lingering on the stunning horizon for what felt like all the wrong reasons.

They'd gotten the Jeep back, and in it Melanie had confessed everything else. Nigel was Richie's illegitimate son. Apparently everyone but Melanie understood that Richie's appliance repair 'house calls' came with a 100% satisfaction guarantee if the lady of the house was interested. When Melanie's grieving family had fled back to India after the 'accident' on the boat that had freed Melanie but cost her her father, she'd kept tabs on Nigel - knowing it was simply a matter of time before another woman met Melanie's same fate.

Sure enough, six years ago Nigel married Leann. When she heard he had a child, Melanie returned to Manchester. Whether it was a trip of atonement or self-imposed obligation, Caroline couldn't tell. Melanie seemed intent on taking responsibility for the situation, but in Caroline's mind only at arm's length. She couldn't help but wonder why Melanie felt so responsible to this woman. She turned over and over in her head the strange resemblance they shared.

Three years ago Melanie had finally reached out to Leann, little by little over the course of a year, through old friends. She'd earned her trust then gone immediately to Harrogate to wait in anonymity for Leann's call to come. It did and the escape through Brighton was planned.

Now, tucked safely away from danger in a generic hotel room, Caroline's head was a tornado and her emotions were a lethal mixture of acid and base. Love and fear collided with anger over secrets kept and betrayals unfairly dealt. She didn't see how Melanie could continue to be a part of her life back in Harrogate. It was too dangerous for her and for the family she'd worked so bloody hard for so many years to hold together.

She tried to imagine relaying this story to Celia, any of it, and couldn't even get past the first syllables in her head before she heard her mother's clucking disapproval and imagined her ever-deepening scowl. Melanie wasn't the 'kind of people' Celia Dawson, and by transference her daughter, mixed with.

That was tomorrow. Today pressed in on her and her own scowl spread on her face as she stared down Melanie's resolve.

"Whether I'm better or worse off for it I don't know yet, Melanie. But I _do_ love you. And I'm not sending you out there alone into the night to do _god knows what_ with god knows who lurking in the shadows. Or even worse, not lurking – _threatening_ you, or even hurting you. And that's that."

Melanie's shoulders dropped but she didn't look away from Caroline. "Okay. If you want to do it that way we can. We'll call the police, right now. I have the card for Sergeant Weixel. We'll call him up and he'll come here or I'll leave you at the police station to talk to him. You can tell him everything, Caroline, if you feel that's right. The whole point – of everything – was to keep you out of this. If it needs to end with me taking responsibility, so be it. While you're there, I'll get Leann out."

"No." Caroline stopped pacing and crossed her arms over her stomach. "I mean, I don't know yet what I want to tell the police. But you're not going alone."

"Yes, Caroline, please. Please let me keep you safe. I came to England to keep Leann and her daughter safe, and I will. I moved to Harrogate to be safe, and I was. And I had no right to fall in love with you, and with Flora, and drag you into all of this. Of all the wrong turns I've made, I think this – involving you – was the worst of them."

Melanie collapsed into an arm chair and covered her face with her hands. Caroline saw tears streaming down her cheeks and sat on a corner of the bed opposite her. She leaned her elbows on her knees and clasped her hands, very close and still very far away from a woman that just yesterday she'd hoped to marry.

"Well whether you meant it or not, I'm in it up to my elbows now, aren't I?" Caroline's tone was unforgiving. She thought about Flora – felt sick that her daughter might ever have become a part of all of this chaos. Then she thought about that pink sweater with the giant red heart right in the center. The little girl it belonged to, and what her mother – and Melanie – were trying to do to keep her from any more harm.

Melanie composed herself; sat straight and blew her nose. Her eyes cleared. "You are. But no further. No further Caroline, do you hear me? I know how we are, you and I. How we work." Melanie shoved up at her glasses and gestured back and forth between them.

"I know you get your way when it comes to – to everything. But not this. Just, not this. I'm soft, Caroline, but I'm not fragile. I'm not going to break, and I'm going to do what I came here to do. I'm stronger – I'm smarter than you give me credit. A lot smarter than you give me credit."

Caroline sat back on the bed and her world tilted again as the steel in Melanie she'd glimpsed only today came forward.

"Don't be shocked. Please, Caroline, don't be like this. I do know you. I don't mind being second fiddle, and I don't feel I need to prove myself to you. Because if you didn't know how I really am, deep down somewhere, where you've tucked it away to keep your own ego happy, well, we wouldn't be together, would we?"

 _Well she's nailed you, love, hasn't she?_ Celia roared with laughter in Caroline's head.

Melanie stood. She placed a hand on Caroline's arm and a kiss on her cheek, and grabbed her jacket from the closet.

Caroline didn't move, didn't speak. The tornado tearing through her mind spun faster and wider and wilder. She wanted to go home. She wanted this to be done and she wanted to hug Flora and her mum and the boys and even Gillian and return to the peace and balance she thought she'd secured.

Melanie pulled on her jacket and tugged her thick dark hair out of the collar. She braided it more quickly than Caroline had ever seen anyone do, and Melanie watched Caroline right back as she did so.

"I'm going now to take care of all of this, okay? I'm meeting Leann and I'm going to stay in Brighton another day to make sure she gets on her way. You're going to leave, right now. The more I think about it, the more I don't want you here. I have no idea if Mitch knows where we are, and even worse I have no idea what's become of Brian Shadforth. You don't belong here, Caroline, and you don't want to be here. I can see it in your eyes."

Caroline walked up to her and tugged at Melanie's jacket. She could barely hear herself as she spoke, and she stared at the pattern of Melanie's scarf. "What you see is fear. I don't want to be here. I don't want any of it. But I have it. I have you – to worry about, like it or not. I will trust you, Mel. I will let you go and finish your business. But I will wait for you. I must know you're safe. Anything else, any other plan is just a non-starter."

"Thank you. And I'm sorry Caroline. I'm sorry. I love you. I love you and that's my fault." Melanie leaned her forehead on Caroline. "I do intend this to work out. I have planned ahead. I have put some contingencies in place. I've made that clear to Nigel."

Caroline looked up and frowned. She kept hold of Melanie's coat.

"Dave's a free agent. And he's reasonable. Always has been. He'll deliver a letter, and more than that he can be convinced out of doing things - or into doing things."

Caroline closed her eyes and let go of Melanie. "For all you've told me, I think I still only know about half of what's going on, don't I?" She'd resigned Melanie to her own fate, and now she really, really did just want to see Gillian and the girls, even if they were still hundreds of kilometers away. An emptiness flooded her and she wanted to replace it with family.

"I've told you the substance of it, and I've told you the truth, Caroline."

Caroline nodded. "I believe you. Be careful, Melanie. Please."

She let Melanie wrap her arms around her and it felt like comfort and hope. She pulled her closer, and though she couldn't believe her own heart, she hoped that it wouldn't be long at all before she could hug Melanie again.

* * *

As soon as she closed the door behind Melanie, Caroline went to her mobile at the desk by the window. She cursed and plugged it in, her battery practically empty as the evening drew on. She had yet to listen to Gillian's voicemail, or her mum's. _'It's not quite bedtime yet – and it'd be better if I wash my face and pull myself together a bit.'_ She set the phone down, drew her sweater over her head and ambled to the bathroom.

The new quiet in the room was filled by car horns and trucks and shouting pedestrians. They'd both agreed on a busy hotel in the busier inner city. The noise and the people surrounding them now were comforting, but she closed her eyes and recalled the sound of the ocean.

She turned on the faucet and studied herself while the water warmed. Her tired expression was a surprise to her, as it was so similar in so many ways to the one she'd worn this morning. A few hours older and eyes red. But no great show of wear for the day, and no visible marks from the bruising ride of the past few hours. Nothing on the outside representing the marks all over on the inside.

She dried her face with the stiff white hotel towel. She didn't mind the roughness or the chlorinated smell, because to Caroline it represented _clean_. She set the towel down and spared one more look in the mirror – tried to help her hair have anything resembling a shape – and put on a smile as she headed to the mobile to ring home.

* * *

"Hi sweetheart. I so, more than anything in the world, wanted to see your smiling face right now - and there you are! Have you had a good day?"

Flora looked exhausted, but Caroline drank up every inch of happiness flowing through the line.

"It was great. I got to ride on the tractor with Uncle Robbie. It was really bouncy. I had to wear funny glasses to cover my eyes. It was fun."

"Did you hold on tight?"

"Yes but not enough. I pushed Calamity and she pushed me back and I fell off."

Flora held up a right arm covered fingers to elbow in a purple cast.

Knowing it was the wrong reaction, Caroline gasped and her face fell. "Flora what's happened? Are you alright?" She was punch drunk, and even in her horror she couldn't muster much passion in her response. Instead her questions rang of despair.

Flora frowned. Her eyes grew bright but Caroline could see her tears were of concern for her mum. "Mummy I'm okay now. I am. It hurt soooo bad. More than anything ever. I'm very sleepy but it's better now. Aunt Gillian says it will feel better every day."

"Does she?" Caroline smiled at Flora but her eyes were tight and so were her lips as she drew them upward. "Flora honey I don't want you to go anywhere, but can you please put Aunt Gillian on the line for a sec?"

"Yes mum. Am I in trouble?" Flora's little brow stayed wrinkled and all the concern on it kicked Caroline in the teeth all over again.

"Oh no. No. You're not in trouble at all. In fact I'm so proud of you. I know that you were probably the bravest you've ever been today, and I want you to know how proud I am of that, and how much I love you."

"Okay." Flora handed the phone up and Gillian was already wincing as Caroline came on.

Caroline whispered through clenched teeth. "She's broken her bloody arm, Aunt Gillian, and this is the first I'm hearing of it?"

Gillian's grimace became surprise. "It's not. Check your bloody mobile once in a while, Caroline."

Another flop of her stomach. Caroline wished she could simply melt into the armchair, melt away and wake up in the distant past or the distant future. Any place, any time, that didn't include Melanie's lies or Flora's broken arm.

She clapped a hand on her head. _The missed calls_. "I'm sorry. I've had a day myself. But seriously, Gillian, what happened. And tell me, promise me, that Flora is fine."

"I promise you, Caroline. It's a clean break, right as rain in a few weeks. We felt like we were on an assembly line, in and out of casualty in an hour. She was smiling by the end of it because she could have any color cast she wanted. She's a tough one you've raised."

"Okay." Caroline put a hand to her mouth, closed her eyes and willed herself to be in Harrogate right now. Nothing. Still miserable in an anonymous hotel room in bloody Brighton. She started to giggle and stopped herself before they became hysterical.

"You alright yourself? You seem like you've been through your own wars."

"Oh I have. You won't believe it. I still don't. But that'll keep. Will you put Flora back on?"

Caroline's heart slowed as Flora filled the screen again, scowling her unabated concern.

"I miss you mummy. I'm okay. Really I am. But I'll be so glad when you come home. But Aunt Gillian has been so nice. We had the best dinner."

"Tell me." Caroline smiled and put her heart into it, if for no other reason than to bring a smile back to Flora's face. It turned the trick.

"Auntie Gillian made chicken with noodles. Calamity helped make a chocolate cake for dessert. Nan and grandpa Alan are here too."

Flora's brown eyes doubled in size. "Oh! Mum. When you get home can we bake the biscuits with cinnamon that Mel does? I told Calamity how good they are and she doesn't believe me."

Flora stumbled over 'cinnamon' but Caroline got the point.

"I don't know if we can do the rolls with Mel, Flora. But I promise that you and Calamity and I will have a whole day all to ourselves."

"Yay! I can't wait. Are you coming home tomorrow?"

"Oh yes I am, Little Miss. Nothing could stop me. I'll be there by tea time for sure."

A full row of small, well-gapped white teeth was all the reply Caroline needed. Her mobile flashed at her to plug it in, and she dismissed it. She needed more time with Flora.

"Have you picked a bedtime story?"

"Calamity picked _The Lorax._ I got to pick last night."

"And what did you pick?"

" _We're Going on a Bear Hunt_. Uncle Robbie pretended to be the bear and we acted it out."

"Oh that's the best way to read that book. Do you think he will do that for us when I come to get you?"

"I'll ask him. He's funny. We had a tickle fight with him tonight. I couldn't really play along but Calamity and Auntie Gillian won."

"Sounds smashing. So what are you going to do tomorrow?"

"Uncle Robbie promised to hang a tire from a tree so we could swing on it and Auntie Gillian said we could help her dig up the garden."

"Mmmmmm. Even more perilous fun on the farm. Maybe no tree-swinging for you, little miss. Will you tell me all about it when I'm home?"

"Yes Mummy. Auntie Gillian wants the phone and I'm really, really sleepy. I love you."

"I love you with every single part of me, including my whole heart too, Flora. Sleep well."

She clicked off, let the mobile tumble to the floor and set out to have a spectacular cry. Within minutes she was asleep in the comfortable-enough armchair.

* * *

"Oy what've we got here, then?" Mitch leaned toward the windshield and shifted his hips around in the tattered bucket seat like a house cat playing with a mouse. "Two birds for the price of one, if I'm counting right."

 _Bollocks._ Dave clocked Melanie Wysocki at the same time Mitch had. She glanced around and proceeded with careful steps out of the alley where the men had stood not ten minutes ago.

Dave'd gotten one text from her this afternoon, from a mobile number registered somewhere in India. "Mine stays safe, Leann stays safe, you'll do well." He'd tried texting back but got nothing.

Not much more than the note he'd received from her just like it almost fifteen years ago. Him anonymously greasing the skids for Melanie had been a payday for him back then, and he fully expected another one now. And anyway he never liked any trade involving roughing women up, and kids – no way. Watching his little brother gut-shot when he was nine, that'd done it for him. Nothing with kids. He wasn't like that. So he was fine making life a little easier for Melanie.

But what the bloody hell to do with Mitch?


	14. Oh Oh It's Magic

Caroline woke, bleary-eyed, cold and stuffed into the hotel chair two hours after dozing off. It wasn't even eleven, but her mind stumbled as though it were the very darkest pit of the night. The moon was long gone and the sun still hours away. She rubbed at her eyes and looked around the still-fully lit room.

She blinked and reached over for her phone. Nothing from Melanie. It had only been a couple of hours. Perhaps on the outside of when she might expect to hear, but – but she had zero frame of reference for this situation.

' _Please let me know you're safe and headed back.'_ She sent the text off into the digital void and mentally crossed her fingers. She'd relayed the highlights of the story to Gillian over the phone, and then to Robbie. Who'd gone quiet when she'd mentioned Nigel Pullings and urged her to contact the police - right away. She intended to. As soon as she heard from Melanie.

She was having a hard time reconciling the soft green-eyed children's librarian she felt an instant attraction to with this cloak and dagger version of Melanie, who felt like a stranger to her. What signs did she miss about her life? Was she off target from their very first meeting? She tilted her head back again and thought of their early days. What she might have missed – what she might have rationalized away.

* * *

Caroline stood shifting her weight back and forth in line at the post office, lost in thoughts of all the errands she had to do that busy November evening. There was only one clerk on duty and she knew it was going to take longer than she expected. She also knew that if she didn't do it now, the birthday gift she needed to post to Ginika would never arrive in time.

She lurched forward as someone bumped her from behind, almost dropping the box containing the serving platter she'd so carefully picked out. She spun around, ready to make a snide comment and was surprised to find Melanie Wysocki, newest object of her imagined affections, struggling to pick up the parcel she'd dropped while trying to keep a firm grip on the two others in her hands.

"I'm so sorry!" exclaimed Melanie before she had a chance to look up and see Caroline smiling down at her.

"Oh. Hullo, Flora's mum."

Caroline forgot the mental list that previously had her wishing she were anywhere other than standing in line. She was now exactly where she wanted to be. She'd been trying to wrangle another chance to take Flora to the library and she couldn't believe her good fortune at seeing Melanie again so soon.

"Hullo Melanie. Do you need a hand?"

"Why yes – if you don't mind."

Caroline scooped up a box wrapped in red and placed it on top of the stack Melanie carried.

"Why the long line this time of day I wonder?" Melanie looked around but didn't sound annoyed in the least.

"I was just wondering the same thing. I really need to start just ordering presents from the web and arranging for them to be shipped directly rather than going through this routine. It seems so antiquated – and _inefficient_."

Melanie shrugged. "I don't know. I think there's something more personal about picking out a gift with your hands rather than with fingertips on a keyboard, wrapping it and then going through the ritual of posting it. Somehow makes you and the recipient feel more special, don't you think?"

"Hmmm. When you put it like that, I have to agree. So who are you trying to make feel special?"

"My Mum. It's her birthday this month."

"Where does she live?"

"Kerala."

Caroline paused and scowled, then her expression lit with curiosity. "India? How often do you get to see her?"

"Not often enough."

"And you're sending _three_ packages to _India_?"

Melanie snorted a little as she laughed in response. It didn't make her less attractive. "Since I can't send myself, yes. Actually, I thought I'd send my holiday parcels at the same time. I wrapped things separately so she'd only open her birthday present now."

Caroline watched in anxious amusement as the pile of parcels shifted with Melanie's generous laughter.

"How about you?" Melanie adjusted her grip and snuck a hand up to nudge her burgundy glasses, offsetting her green, green eyes.

"Flora's grandmother, my mother-in-law, is having a birthday next week and lives in New York."

Before Melanie could respond, it was Caroline's turn at the counter. Talking to Melanie, the wait had flown by.

As she turned to walk up, Melanie asked if she had a minute to wait for her so they could walk out together when she was done posting her boxes, and checking the mailbox she kept there. Caroline's heart skipped a beat.

"Yes – of course."

As they walked out side by side into the light dusting of dry, early snow, Melanie turned her head toward Caroline's. "I'm sorry about your wife. And I know you know Flora's such a very sweet child - and lucky to have you and Greg."

"Thank you." There was something about the way Melanie lowered her eyes to look at her snow boots that pushed Caroline the rest of the way forward.

"I'd like to take you on a date Melanie. Sooner, rather than later, if you're interested."

"I'm very interested, Caroline. I thought you'd never ask." Melanie looked up with a delighted grin that crinkled her nose and melted Caroline's heart. "And please, you can call me Mel."

* * *

A lazy flurry of powdery winter snow tumbled at Caroline's office window as she sat surrounded by warm yellow light, frustrated and unable to focus on the sea of numbers and columns in front of her. Try as she might, between the approaching end of term and Flora's schedule, the sooner she'd hoped for hadn't materialized. Two weeks later she'd a time and a place fixed firmly in her mind as she rang Melanie. They'd been texting, not making progress on setting a date, and it hadn't satisfied Caroline in the least.

She heaved a breath in and out and picked up her mobile, tapping her pen on her desk.

"Hullo Melanie - Mel. It's Caroline. How are you?"

"Oh it's the job to be chipper full-time, can't say I mind it!" Not a hint of trepidation in Melanie's tone, or the sense she was surprised or put off by the call.

Caroline felt any anxiety over ringing Melanie drain away. It wasn't Melanie herself making her anxious. Just the opposite. It was the thought of how quickly Caroline knew she'd want to lock herself alone in a room with the ebulliently sexy woman that set off the butterflies in her stomach.

"I was calling to see if I could help with the Library's holiday fundraising carnival next weekend. Do you need any volunteers?"

"Oh, gosh. I was just hoping you'd come with Flora! I think we're all set for volunteers but we do need lots of kids to attend. Any chance you could rent about ten more to bring with you? Make it stand-in for detention this week?" It wasn't hard to hear Melanie smiling at the other end of the line.

It made Caroline feel like smiling right back, and she did. "I'm sure I could persuade Gillian to come over with Calamity."

"Calamity?"

"Sorry. My step-sister, Gillian, and her granddaughter, Jane. Calamity is an unfortunate nickname that has stuck."

"Well that's not unfortunate. I love it! And the more the merrier." Melanie paused and Caroline waited, nerves tingling. "And – since you're so hard to pin down, perhaps we could grab a drink after the fundraiser?" Again, Melanie was so relaxed as she asked, so cheery about the whole call that Caroline almost doubted whether she took her romantic meaning.

No matter. Her meaning would be clear soon enough. Caroline raised a fist in the air in triumph. "That would be lovely. If you think you'll have the energy I'm up for it." She clicked off and spun once in her office chair, before settling back in to finish out reviewing the waiting pile of accounts.

* * *

The library carnival was in full swing when Caroline and company arrived. The grey day and drizzly mist made the bright lights and sounds drifting from the event widen Flora and Calamity's eyes even from the car park. Flora stamped her feet on the shining black asphalt and giggled as they approached.

They walked through the doors and Caroline instantly remembered why she loved Sulgrave Heath so well. Screams and shouts and laughter echoed off every wall in the place, complemented by carnival music. All louder than she would have ever permitted. She braced herself against the cacophony with a smile as Gillian rolled her eyes and corralled Calamity, who at every turn tried to dart off in a different direction.

The stalls and tables were set up throughout the Fairfax Community Center, many of them in the gymnasium and a small riser stage centered at the end. Also prominently featured were the sticky and sugary treats Caroline tried, to varying degrees of success depending on her stamina that day, to steer her daughter away from.

But slowly, as she broadened her evaluation, she was struck by how choreographed the chaos all appeared. They strolled on, Flora's hand tight in hers as her daughter adjusted to the unfamiliar din. She saw Melanie at the center of it all near the stage in the gym. Jeans and trainers and a 'Harrogate Central' grey hooded sweatshirt, clip board in hand, pencil tucked behind her ear, and two pens sticking from the loosening bun of her thick dark hair.

She and Flora made their way over to her to say hello and to introduce Calamity and Gillian. Mel turned toward them and a luminous smile broke out on her face. To Caroline it was brighter than the room itself.

"Welcome to our merry little hurricane of fun ladies. I hope you took an aspirin or two before you arrived!"

She quickly gave them the lay of the land, and a copy of a crayon-drawn program. "I think you should start at the clown who makes the best hats out of balloons. And whatever you do, don't miss the magician's show at noon."

The girls instantly dragged Gillian off by both hands as they ran to the clown and the multi-colored balloons only a few feet away.

Caroline held her jacket draped over her arms and wished she'd found someplace to stash it. It made her look frumpy, and it hid the jeans and boots she'd so carefully picked out that morning.

She glanced around. "Sure you'll still be up for drink at the end of all this?"

"Will it just be you and me?" Mel pushed up at the bottom of her glasses with a pen, face earnest and eager. Caroline wondered if she'd looked just as fresh and sweet every day of her life.

"Absolutely. Gillian's on duty for tea time."

"Then I'll definitely be bright eyed and bushy tailed."

Caroline laughed. A big laugh and not a second of it felt forced, and it felt like it was coming from places inside her that had been dark and building rust for years.

Melanie laughed back. Caroline tucked her long bangs away from her face. "See you in a few hours then. I've a place in mind. Would you like to ride with us?"

"No no, I know you've a full load. I'll have Janet give me a lift, I'll meet you there. Text me the spot?"

"Mummy!" Flora crashed into Caroline's leg and then danced around her. "Look. I've won. I've won!" She held up a plastic bag filled with water and a small, brilliant orange fish.

She hadn't intended for Melanie to see a look quite as stern as the one she wore now before they'd even had a first date. But she supposed it was a good barometer of future success.

Melanie's eyes danced and she shrugged off Caroline's ire. "The kids love it. It's always a guaranteed money maker."

"Hmmm. Well it's going to make a little more money for another table as I quickly divert young miss here to another game while Mr. Goldfish is reunited with his previous owner."

Another stern look toward Melanie, but this one muddled by a persistent upward twitch of her lips she couldn't hold back.

Mel shrugged again and turned to a woman clearly in dire straits as she held up a white table cloth covered in something neon green and gooey.

Caroline laid a hand on Melanie's shoulder and leaned in close, delighted by the way her breath lifted the dark hair tucked behind Melanie's ear. "See you in a few hours then. Good luck."

* * *

They played ring toss, pinned the tail on the donkey, threw darts at a balloon, almost walked their way to winning a cake Caroline would have had to decline, and generally giggled their way through all the games that hadn't changed in any way since Caroline and Gillian were Flora's height.

By the time the magic show was about to begin, Caroline and Gillian were glad for an excuse to sit down. They secured spots well back in what was becoming a healthy sized crowd. As soon as they settled in Caroline took a look at the young magician and recognized him as a former student from Sulgrave Heath.

Chester the Jester, class clown of the everyman. He was a handful and Caroline and every teacher in the staff lounge had raised a mug of tea on his last day three years ago. He gave the Weasley twins a run for their money singlehandedly, a ginger himself to boot.

Throughout his routine he called kids up at random to be part of the act. Eventually he noticed Caroline in the audience and as soon as she saw the crooked smile and the glint in his eyes appear, she knew she was destined for a hard time.

"For my last demonstration of other-worldly wonder and miracles, I'd like to call on one of our most esteemed parents up to the stage. Dr. Dawson? How about assisting me with the famous – or should I say infamous, milk trick?"

Before Caroline had a chance to say no, Flora, Calamity and Gillian were pulling her to her feet. At the side of the crowd stood Melanie, clipboard still in hand and smile splitting her entire face.

"What I'm about to do is take this pitcher of milk -" he held up the brimming pitcher - "and pour it into this newspaper without it spilling." No response from the crowd.

"Did I mention that I'll be holding the newspaper over Dr. Dawson's head as I pour?" Chester smiled as the audience hooted and clapped. Caroline tried to laugh as she stepped up on stage.

"I hope it works as the last time I tried this my volunteer got covered in milk. Please have a seat Doctor."

"Okay boys and girls, this is a brand new one for me. I've only just learned it and I'm hoping it works today. I've never gotten it right yet." He gazed around the assembly with wide anxious eyes, and the kids responded with wide eyes and anticipation - that he might again fail.

With a flourish, he took a section of newspaper and rolled it into a cone.

"Doctor, would you look inside the cone and tell me if you see anything in it?" Before she could answer, her took the cone and shoved it into her face so she looked like she had a pointy nose. High pitched laughter filled the gym.

As he pulled the cone away, Caroline gave him a well-worn look implying he'd do well to plan his impending death. He ignored her.

"And is there anything in this glass?" He swept a glass off the table and held it upside down over her head.

"It appears to be empty." Caroline tried not to wince, but smiled, attempting to look sincere in her good-natured acquiescence to the situation. Her obvious failure seemed only to fuel the delight of the ranks of children and parents now gathered.

"Very good!" He handed her the glass.

"Now, my adoring audience, I'm going to hold this paper over her head like this and then pour in the milk." He inched the pitcher toward Caroline's head. The adoring audience responded with awed delight.

"Oh wait, I forgot something."

He placed the pitcher and paper back on the table and then reached down and pulled out a pink plastic shower cap out of a box on the table.

"How about if we have my lovely assistant here put this fetching cap on her head to protect her hair in case the milk spills?"

The kids howled as they saw that it was also covered with yellow rubber ducks. He pulled it askew over the top of her head so that her hair completely covered her face. Caroline adjusted the cap and her hair so that she could better see her humiliation reflected in the faces of the crowd.

Internally she waged a war of logic, convincing herself that the trick wouldn't be a trick if she ended up covered in milk. However Chester might decide it would garner far more laughs if he 'failed.' Which was Chester seeking? Approval for his magical skill, or approval for his showmanship? She cringed against the outcome.

Chester resumed his position with the pitcher and the newspaper cone teetering over her head. Just as he was about to start pouring, he stopped again and announced that since he always tends to spill the milk he thought he needed to offer her something to keep her top dry. This time he pulled from his box of tricks a child's bib with a clown face on it and draped it over her chest. It offered hilariously little in the way of protection.

As he posed for the third time to begin pouring the milk, he stopped again to offer her a pair of large, purple goggles to protect her eyes from any milk that might splash on her. He wrapped them around the shower cap and immediately flipped a switch on them so that the windshield wipers on the front started swishing back and forth.

Caroline took a full inventory of her current outfit and realized the extent of her ridiculousness. She also realized that the majority of the parents in the audience were snapping pics on their mobiles. The number included Gillian. And Melanie.

Though she could barely see him now, she felt Chester approach and she braced for him to actually start pouring. She couldn't see what he was doing over her head, but registered that she was still blessedly dry as he announced that he had poured one-half of the milk into the cone so far.

He poured the rest of the milk into Caroline's previously empty glass. She heard him place the pitcher on the table and imagined the scene inches from her head as he held the newspaper cone carefully but precariously in both hands.

"Okay boys and girls, this is the moment of truth. As I open the paper, we'll see if any milk spills out on our doctor here. Let's count together and I'll open it on _three_."

"One."

"Two."

"Three!"

The crowd counted down in unison, volume climbing with each number. With a final flourish, he opened the cone over her head and to the amazement of the kids and Caroline's great relief, there was no milk and the newspaper was dry. A huge cheer filled the entire gymnasium.

For the final part of the act, he took the glass of milk from Caroline and placed it on the top of her head. Watching the video later on Gillian's mobile, Caroline, along with the giggling audience, watched the milk disappear from it as the pitcher in his other hand starting to fill back up again.

Kids and parents alike roared and clapped. Chester disentangled Caroline from her props and thanked her for her assistance, assuring her that she'd never looked lovelier or been a better sport. In an act of contrition, he kissed the top of each of her hands as he took them to help her down off the stage.

* * *

"I'm awfully glad you weren't doused in milk."

" _That_ makes two of us."

"Well if you were you might not have been able to make our date. I would have been crushed." Melanie ducked to the side and grinned. "You were a good sport. I had _no_ idea he'd been one of yours. Glad he was as good as he claimed to be."

Caroline's fiery blue eyes wrinkled at the corners. The rowdy afternoon and the adrenaline-inducing magic show had her blood up. She basked in the good cheer and perpetual well of energy pouring from Melanie as they stood less than a meter apart. She wasn't sure if it was the gym or Melanie herself that smelled so sweetly of kettle corn. The dull roar of excited children faded away as they talked.

"Mmmmm. Well. No harm no foul. And I'm warm and dry and certainly ready for that drink. See you in about – " Caroline checked her thin sterling silver watch – "an hour?"

Another flash of brilliant white teeth from Melanie. Caroline found herself having a hard time looking away from the woman's mouth.

' _If I can't kiss her by the end of the day, I'm going to go absolutely stark raving mad.'_


	15. Blues in the Night

" _Easy enough. Just tell her. Tell her now. 'I'm sort of on the run, Caroline. I'm only in Harrogate to take care of some old business involving my dead husband who ran a drug empire last decade in Manchester. By the way I might have had a hand in his being dead now.'_

" _So now that's cleared up – I'm thinking the Margarita pizza. With a salad – and the maple balsamic dressing. How about you?"_

Melanie ran this and other set ups for introducing herself to Caroline, her real self, on their first date. _'Maybe I should wait until after we have desert. Wouldn't want to make dinner awkward.'_

But no matter how fervently she mulled over finding a way to tell this woman what was really going on, it all sounded bad. Deal-breaker bad. And she didn't want that. She wanted Caroline to give her a chance. She wanted someone to give her a chance again, and she wanted someone to want her. Caroline Dawson wanted her. It was impossible to miss.

Her co-worker and friend, Janet, prattled on next to her in her ancient Toyota Celica on the way to drop Melanie for said first date with Caroline after the children's carnival. Librarians weren't typically flush and the fifteen-year-old car smelled of petrol when they stopped at lights. Melanie hoped it wouldn't result in her smelling of petrol when she arrived. She grabbed a lock of black hair and pulled it to her nose to check. She also hoped Caroline might step right in and greet her with a kiss on the cheek when they met. Or just a kiss. The former was much more likely, but she could always hope it might be the latter. Anyway. She hoped she'd be right near Caroline right off, and not smelling like car fumes when she was.

Melanie climbed out of the Celica at the curb near the restaurant to see Caroline on her mobile and fast approaching with long, sure strides. She clicked off as Melanie waved goodbye to Janet. It wasn't Melanie's wildest dream, but sure enough the curvy blonde woman with the piercing blue eyes leaned in to peck Melanie on the cheek as she said hello. She smelled of rosemary.

Impulsively, she returned the gesture. For a moment she thought Caroline might make it a hat trick and they'd stand there until dark going back and forth. She didn't. But Melanie saw a flash in her eyes and started imagining all the ways this night could go so very well instead of so very poorly.

' _Definitely wait until after desert.'_

* * *

"You want another, ma'am?" The bartender with the black eyes and curly black hair spoke with a thick German accent.

Melanie scowled as he interrupted her daydream, or rather, late-night dream, just as she was getting to the good part involving Caroline and desert. "No." She reached into her pocket and dropped four pounds on the battered oak bar. The sound as they hit was weighted and dull.

"Very good. Thank you."

Melanie's mobile beeped. "10% power remaining." She swore under her breath and reached into her bag, fishing for her battery case. She popped her cover off and slipped the mobile into the backup charger. She set it on the bar and took a sip of her pint as the lightning bolt icon appeared in the corner. One problem solved.

It had taken her less than a second to spot Mitch and Dave in the ridiculously obvious unmarked white delivery van across from Leann's flat. Now she knew where they were. And they knew where she was – and where Leann was. She'd strolled on by without a backward glance and installed herself at the nearest pub to think.

Seedy would be one way to describe the wood-paneled pub where she sat. Run-down another, and menacing the final. Perhaps not menacing. Perhaps, under other circumstances, just dirty. But cloudy glass or not, the beer still drank well. As it calmed her nerves it cleared her mind.

She'd always wanted to tell Caroline everything, and even ask for her help. Almost from the moment she'd seen her come into the library. Certainly as soon as she'd kissed her and realized one would never be enough. She'd been lonely and alone when Caroline had come into her life. She felt that loneliness echoed back at her by the compelling, composed single mum, and the synergy had made Caroline irresistible.

But by the time they'd even started dating Melanie was stumbling over what to say. What was the right time to tell a story like hers? Time slipped away and slipped away. Christmas came and went. New Year's came and went. And by the time the green buds appeared on the trees, signaling the approach of spring, she knew it was already too late. By that point confession wasn't just confession. It was lies and betrayals of trust. It was the look on Caroline's face from tonight. The assessment and the skepticism and the hurt.

She thumbed the eight hundred pounds sitting on top of the coins at the bottom of her jacket pocket. Would it be enough to buy Leann's freedom? What about her own? She'd been scraping by in Harrogate. Saving up in anticipation of just this kind of scenario. She'd be flat broke by the time this was all over. Broke and alone again if she knew anything at all about Caroline.

She'd tried, this weekend in Brighton, to lead Caroline to it all on her own. But Caroline had a habit of ignoring anything that wasn't really relevant to her current goals. Then things had gotten complicated and out of control.

What she needed right now was a distraction to finish it once and for all with Leann. She could use Caroline's help, no doubt. Would Caroline be up for it? What they were doing wasn't illegal. Dangerous perhaps, but not illegal. She'd brought Leann to Brighton to shake Nigel. He'd have followed her to any airport in the country, possibly snatched her then or followed her wherever she landed. This way she was out clean - the English Channel the biggest stream in the world for shaking the dogs off the scent.

Her mobile lit and she looked down. Relief covered her face.

"Hi Brian."

* * *

Caroline started awake again to a knock at the hotel door. The lights were still on and she was back in the arm chair. The bed just didn't feel right.

She shuffled in her white socks across the hotel carpet, rubbing her eyes. She peered through the security hole and blew up through her bangs as she stepped back to open the door.

"Hi Robbie. It's good to see you."

"Of course. Whether you take my advice and go to Brighton police or not, I don't want you doing this alone." He came through and she closed and latched the door behind him.

"Didn't think I'd ever be turning to you in your, ehm – official capacity." She yawned and shook her head. "So what've you learned?"

"Mate Dave's been on it all night for me at the station, digging up what he can and getting anything else out of Manchester. Your Melanie is in it, Caroline. I don't mean to scare you but that's the truth of it."

 _Her Melanie._ Caroline rolled it around in her mind, deciding whether that term still felt right. She was terrified for Mel, no mistake about that. But wanting to see Mel safe was a far cry from wanting her back in her life, her home, or her bed.

"Here's what's what, far as I can tell. I can confirm that Nigel's the son of Melanie's deceased husband. Took up the family business - all of it - after his dad died."

Caroline watched Robbie pace and stretch. He must have flown down the M1 – it had taken him only four hours to make the trip from Halifax.

"Back when it all went down with Richard, Manchester wanted to question Melanie about the man's death, and her father's, but she and her family were already out of Heathrow by the time the missing persons was filed. Report was put in by Richard's mum a couple days after the boat accident."

Robbie shrugged out of his dark brown corduroy jacket and tossed it on the bed. "They questioned Richard's associates, but none of them had anything to say. 'Specially Nigel. Our idea is he didn't want anyone digging too deep. Or maybe he wasn't so sad about his new position in life."

He paused as his phone buzzed in his back pocket. "Gillian" He held it up to Caroline with a grin and then tapped out a text. He walked over to the curtains and tipped them back to look out over the dark and twinkling city.

"Melanie's family didn't offer anything helpful, didn't file charges or demand anything when it came to finding out what happened to her father. So it was put away neat and tidy. Though Manchester had more than a hunch it wasn't all above board – so to speak."

Caroline guessed that neither Robbie nor the Manchester police had any idea what had really happened on that boat more than a decade ago. She considered the cost she might pay for her silence on the matter and weighed it against the cost Melanie would pay if she filled in the blanks for them. Two men were dead. Melanie had made stupid choices. She'd paid for that at least on one front, with her father's life. Caroline kept quiet.

Robbie flopped down into the napping chair, as she'd come to think of it, and scratched at his beard. The rasp of it could have been the sound of Caroline's blood pumping through her raw, naked heart. Everything about her felt gritty and exposed and her eyes burned with bad sleep.

"Nigel's story is he's just picked up where his dad left off, with the appliances. But you couldn't find a bloke off the street who believes him. Added high-end stereos and home-theater installation type stuff. Folks who can afford a little bit more quality - or volume. We suspect he's grown beyond meth as well, you know a little something for everyone."

More nodding from Caroline. She let herself feel Mel's deception again. She balanced the heft and breadth of it against Melanie's good intentions.

She looked away from Robbie and stared at a bland, bad watercolor on the wall of the room. Lilies should never be purple and teal. "I just thought we were here for a short holiday."

Robbie didn't respond to her non-sequitur and she rambled on. "I'm worried about Mel. I don't know if she's safe, and obviously, I'm also worried how safe I am at this point. She's told me very little on the premise that the less I know, the safer I am."

"Yeah. Well. From what I know, she's right. I can't tell you much more. Manchester has been leading the investigation into Nigel. They've been trying to shut down his operation for a while - and they might finally have done it. He's put his foot in it. Sold bad smack to the wrong kid. Son of a judge. And there's a man willing to flip."

Caroline looked up, eyes finally sharp and clear as the clock hit one am and she shrugged off the last of her persistent drowsiness.

Robbie nodded again. "Yeah. They can get him. If Leann'll testify. Seems everyone wants this woman for a lot of different reasons. Not to put you and Melanie further at odds, Caroline, but if you can step in and somehow convince this Leann woman to stick around…"

"We're all a lot safer, and so is the entirety of Manchester. Two birds, one stone."

"That's about the size of it."

"That's what we're doing then. That's what's going to happen. Because how I feel tonight, I never want to feel this way again." Caroline made a sweeping gesture with her hand. "One way or the other this bloody mess is over, Robbie." She finished with a stern point at eye level.

Standing, hands on his hips now, Robbie tucked his chin curtly. "That's about what I wanted, expected to hear out of you, Caroline."

Caroline's head snapped over as they both heard the sound of the automatic lock on the door whir. It opened, and Melanie peeked her dark head in. She caught sight of Robbie and started back. Then, the door opened fully and she came through, trailed by Brian Shadforth.

* * *

"Yeah. So, it's what I do a lot. Get women where they need to be. Makes it feel like my own mum didn't die for nothing."

Brian recreated his halting, self-conscious style and narrative for Robbie and Caroline, standing in front of and taking up most of the window in what had become a very crowded hotel room.

' _We should have gotten a suite.'_ Suddenly Caroline's life and her space were crowded with men. She was shockingly relieved to see Brian standing her in front of her, healthy and whole. She looked from him to Robbie, but not at Melanie. She wasn't sure about Melanie yet, not sure where she fit or how she felt. Other than angry and resolute. So Melanie stayed on the outside. Though Caroline desperately didn't want it that way. She shoved down her sadness and her want that Melanie would make it better and concentrated on the here and now. And on Nigel and Leann Pullings.

Melanie turned to the big young man with his close-cropped red hair. "Brian tried to steer Dave off Leann by coming to me, or rather to you, Caroline, with the sweater. And it worked. Trouble is none of us saw Mitch coming and he's the spanner. Has his own motives and a way of being unpredictable. So Brian had to go silent running for a while."

Brian scratched at his neck and stared at his ratty trainers. "Yeah I holed up on my boat. That one guy, the small one, he led on that quiet was good for me. I said yeah sure and tried to get on, but the big one worked me over. Took everything on me, phone and wallet and all that." He looked over to Mel. "Know I'm hefty, but never been particularly good with fighting. Only when I have to."

Melanie put a hand on his arm and Brian smiled down at her. Caroline watched the interaction and it pissed her off how much comfort Melanie seemed to impart to the simple hulk of a boy.

He continued. "Didn't think it was a good idea to circle back to Mel or Leann, so I laid low. Came up for air and a new phone when I could."

"I'm glad you're here now, Brian. You're a great help." More of the comfort and assurance flowing to Brian from Melanie, which for no reason got right under Caroline's skin.

"We'll see about that." Caroline turned to Robbie. "It seems you're the most qualified to call the shots here, Robbie. What's next?" Her cool gaze brooked little room for disagreement from anyone.

"The police are next. No question." Hands still on his hips and a familiar cloak of official authority drawn around him.

Brian scowled. "I dunno. I think I can get Leann where she needs to be still. And I'd rather not mix with the police." He made eye contact with a silent Melanie, who looked as though she were trying to stare through him and out the window. "And I don't like thinking Melanie'd end up in jail after what she's been trying to do to help."

"Well I think Melanie needs to take responsibility for her actions – past and present. And there are other considerations at work here." Caroline finally looked over to Melanie and drove her point home. "Leann can do far more good staying and helping to put Nigel away than she can running from the situation."

Robbie shifted on his feet and Brian kept his head down.

Caroline continued. "Robbie's informed me that there's a chance, Melanie, that this mess can be cleared up if Leann helps the police hold Nigel accountable."

Melanie sniffed and cleared her throat. Her eyes shone with discouragement and she crossed her arms and looked down. "I suppose - you make a good point, Caroline."

"I do. And I'm glad you see it that way."

Robbie put a hand on Caroline's arm. She softened her posture and let up on the thousand-watt glare.

"We don't know yet what's what when it comes to all that, Brian, Melanie - regarding who's on the hook for what. We do know the safest thing we can do."

"Yep." Caroline walked over to the desk and pulled a card from her purse. She held it out to Robbie and inclined her head. "Brighton police – Sergeant Weixel. I'm sure he'll be glad to help. And to know that Brian here is alive and well."

Brian couldn't seem to find a way to look at any of them. Melanie sniffed again and excused herself to the loo.


	16. The Weight

_Rap rap rap._

Brian's knuckles beat a sharp, haunting echo against the dented and scuffed black metal door to Leann's flat, and the sound careened back out into the still night.

Melanie worked to stay focused and not look over her shoulder at the white van a few meters down the way. The moon was clouded and it was impossible to see either Mitch or Dave. But she knew they were in there. Lurking. Waiting.

A fine drizzle further obscured the van and chilled the air. Their breath steamed as they waited for the hunted woman to appear.

Melanie had texted Leann ten minutes ago with a heads up that she and her daughter Misty ought to be ready to move. She pulled out her mobile to text again. _'It's us.'_

She heard three locks slide, click, and disengage. Leann's sister holing up in the gritty part of town made the place a much safer crash pad for women on the run.

A wide pale oval with wide brown eyes and stringy blond hair appeared in the partially-opened door way. Leann cast her glance past Melanie and Brian and then let them both in.

The entry was dark, but a light shone in the kitchen at the back of the flat. Seated on a stool at the cracked and peeling orange Formica countertop was six-year-old Misty Pullings.

"It's time, is it?" Leann led them back toward where her daughter sat in a halo of yellow from the bare bulb hanging over her.

Melanie saw that Misty was reading a tattered brown book. Dishwater blond hair up in a ponytail, she wore a dingy light blue coat that looked as though it had once been the color of the sky, and faded pink canvas trainers the color of cherry blossoms drug through mud. The book was open toward the beginning, but Melanie didn't think it was Misty's first time through it.

She walked up next to her and craned her neck. " _The Borribles?_ Why - that's one of my favorites ever." Melanie's all-knowing librarian smile surfaced. It insinuated that she knew just the book any child was looking for – and what they wanted most for Christmas as well. The young girl scowled.

"I'm afraid I had my ears clipped when I was younger. Terrible fate." Melanie pulled back her hair in illustration and offered a conspiratorial grin. "But you can still trust me." Now Misty smiled back at her. Melanie had never, never had any trouble when it came to children or books.

"We're on the run from the Rumbles."

"Mmmm. I guess that's an accurate description, Misty."

Leann came up behind them both and placed a hand on her daughter's head. "Seemed like a less scary way of putting things for her."

Melanie nodded. Brian stood with his hands clasped at his waist just inside the pool of light at the kitchen counter.

"We're ready Mel. Stuff's packed. You – " Leann scraped her eyes up and down Brian then rested them at Melanie's feet. "You can pay Brian to take us?"

"I can Leann. But I want to ask you something, if I could?"

Leann tilted her head and a frown appeared. She looked at Melanie now the way Misty had done moments previous.

"I just want to ask, Leann. You're in charge of things. We'll do whatever you want, okay?"

"Okay. Ask."

"Would you consider working with the police instead of leaving the country?"

Leann shook her head vehemently. "You want me and Misty to hang around now? Wait for Nigel or one of his mean, idiot blokes to jump out of a car some night and end us both?"

Misty didn't look up from her book, but Melanie saw her shoulders jump. Just once.

"No. I want you to be safe. I think the police can do that. I think they can put Nigel in jail, with your help."

"Why you changing your tune? Nigel offer you something to get us out in the open?" Leann's eyes darted over to Brian, and she wrapped an arm around Misty.

"You don't know me very well, Leann, But I think you know me better than that." Melanie offered a ghost of a smile, nudged her glasses at the corner and held Leann's gaze.

Leann spared another glance at Brian, who didn't look up to challenge her. "Yeah. Well."

"Think about it. You can stay in England. You can know it's over. For good. I can tell you - that's worth something."

"What if Nigel gets out, gets away – or the police cock it up?"

"I guess those things might happen. And we'd be back at square one. But if they don't, you're much better off, aren't you?"

Leann narrowed her eyes. "And what do you get out of it?"

Melanie looked at Misty but she thought of Flora. She might see this blond six-year-old again. But her chances of seeing Flora – even being able to say goodbye to her – she rated those slim to none.

"I get nothing. I get less than nothing. I may even end up in prison. At this point I don't have anything to trade the police might consider useful. But you do. And it's still the right thing to do, isn't it Leann? To try?"

Leann pulled her arm tighter around her daughter and looked from Melanie to Brian and back again.

"I gotta think about it."

* * *

"What's taking so long?" Caroline paced the break room of the Brighton police station. White-blue LED lights created deep shadows and gave a stark pale cast to everyone and everything they touched. Caroline might have looked worse for being up all night, but under these lights she couldn't imagine how.

She looked over to Robbie who sat in a green plastic chair watching her strut back and forth across the speckled beige linoleum, her arms alternately crossed or waving wildly.

Finally, Caroline sat, feet splayed in front of her. Unsatisfied, she crossed them and leaned back into her own hard chair. A back leg of it gave way an inch as she did and she jumped.

"These things take time, Caroline. Can't imagine it's easy for Melanie - trying to change the plan on Leann at the last minute."

"She shouldn't be there in the first place."

"That was her condition, Caroline. For working with the police. It was to be Leann's choice, how it all went down."

"Still. They shouldn't have _let_ her go."

"Thrown her in a cell then, bully her into cooperating, giving up Leann's location?"

" _Noooo_. Of course not."

"It's going to take the time it's going to take. I'm sorry about all of this, Caroline." Robbie ran a hand over his thin hair and blew out a mighty breath, then yawned.

"Yes. Well, so am I." She leaned her elbows onto the table, rested her chin in her hands and closed her eyes. She couldn't sleep and she couldn't stand not to. Just past five am now. It must still be dark outside. What _was_ taking so long?

* * *

Leann handed Melanie back her mobile. "What if you're both lying? I don't know this Weixel man from a hole in the ground."

Misty had moved over to the living room and was sitting next to Brian on the threadbare brown and gold checkered couch. Leann's version of 'thinking about it' had involved a shot of Paddy and Sons and a call to Sergeant Weixel.

Whiskey didn't sound half bad to Melanie. She was strung out and exhausted. But she couldn't be half as tired as Leann had to be.

"If I didn't believe the police, that they can make good on what they've promised, I wouldn't be here right now Leann. You know that. You _do_."

Leann looked over to her daughter. "Misty."

The girl looked up and Leann crooked her finger. "Melanie can you give us a minute?"

Melanie and Misty traded places in the gloom of the run-down flat.

Leann took her daughter over near the avocado green refrigerator and squatted down to meet her at eye level. Melanie sat next to Brian and watched her place a hand on Misty's shoulder. Misty would nod at something Leann said, and then vice versa.

She was awfully glad to have Brian with her. She knew there were police everywhere. She knew they were to be taking Dave and Mitch into custody at this very moment, but she still felt the lurking presence in her mind and in the flat. She couldn't shake it.

Brian felt solid. And Brian wasn't cross with her. He was just Brian.

She hadn't known him long and didn't know him well. But he felt safe, predictable, and solid. She hadn't been dormant those ten years in India or the couple in Harrogate. She'd been all over the internet and in touch with women's shelters across the continent. Apparently, Brian was the go-to man in the south of England when it came to getting women out of tight spots. They'd Skyped only once before Melanie had begun to trust him. Every interaction since, she'd trusted him more. He'd become a friendly face.

As she watched Leann and the small girl in the dirty pink shoes talking, she realized she didn't know what outcome she hoped for. If they wanted to run, she'd help them. She'd very likely end up in jail. If Leann cooperated, though, Melanie would likely end up in jail anyway for her past with Richie. This wasn't a win-win for her, it was a lose-lose. She blinked back tears. There would be plenty of time to cry later.

Leann put her hands on her knees, straightened up, and took Misty's hand and they walked over to the sofa.

Melanie stood to meet them. "What's it going to be, then?"

* * *

Caroline had managed to fall asleep after all, resting her forehead on her crossed arms. She jerked her head up and slammed her hands on the table as the cross-hatched glass-front door to the hallway opened.

Weixel's gruff partner, Smith, stepped into the threshold. "Wanted to let you know we've rounded them up. Man from Pulling's crew, the lady and her daughter - and another bloke, not sure how he fits."

Caroline closed her eyes, pinched the bridge of her nose, and frowned. "The man – you mean the _men_ – who work for Nigel Pullings."

"Ahhh, no ma'am. Just the one. Goes by Dave. Got him, the woman Leann, a kid, and someone called Brian all on the way in."

Caroline stared, mouth open and eyes wide and bright.

Robbie stood. "You also have another woman, Melanie Wysocki, and a man named Mitch?"

"Ahhh, not that I know of. Just telling you what I heard off the radio."

"Thank you." Robbie nodded at the man, who nodded back and stepped out.

Caroline scrambled for her mobile and clicked it on and scrolled through before she looked over at Robbie, her face lined, pale, and hollow. "But where's Melanie?"


	17. What About Love?

"If you want to stay in Brighton a while longer, Caroline, Flora is fine. She really is. Actually, I think you're going to have a hard time getting her to leave."

"I don't _want_ to stay, Gillian. It's almost been a week. I can't stand to be here another minute. I've never wanted to be in my own house more in my _life_. But I haven't slept more than a couple hours and I – well I just want to know that Mel's okay." Caroline paced the sidewalk outside the police station. Small puddles were gathered on the concrete from the drizzle overnight. It was just barely light now, and the night shift was turning over. It was hard to tell who looked sleepier at six am - the police coming off or those headed on.

"The police have said I can go whenever I'd like. They've got a couple folks out looking for Melanie, but it's been an hour. I mean, there's nothing I can do short of roaming the streets myself, and both Robbie and Sergeant Weixel have both squashed that notion."

"Don't make a rash decision, yeah? Stay. Get some sleep at least. Last thing you want is to get in an accident."

Caroline thought back to the car wash and literally running into a man she'd never seen before and thought she'd never see again. Only a few days passed and now a lifetime ago. How could so much change come in such a short time?

She chided herself. Change came in the blink of an eye. One tiny, insignificant decision about picking up milk, for instance, had altered her life forever. She ought to know the pace and potential of change better by now.

"You're right." She sighed.

"Course I am. I'm right a lot. 'Specially when it comes to watching out for my little sister."

"An hour younger perhaps, but _little_ is taking it a bit far." Caroline surprised herself and laughed. She was grateful for where she and Gillian's relationship had traveled over the past few years. Close enough now that their frequent quarrels left her exasperated but not uncertain. They'd recently discovered that Gillian was an hour older than Caroline, and that had provided both of them with plenty of amusement. She pulled her jacket tighter around her shoulders and watched a woman across the street doing the same thing for a small boy.

"Yeah. Well, just be safe, Caroline. I'll be glad to see you home. Robbie being a help?"

"Of course he is. He's a better man than you deserve, Gillian." Caroline said it with a smile and hoped it was heard on the other end.

"He is, but don't you go and tell him. Everyone else already does."

"Mmmm. Funny thing about that is, you're also a better woman than he deserves. You really are. Be good if you could actually _hear_ that."

There was a pause and Caroline stared blankly at the pavement. She leaned against the brick wall of the station and closed her eyes. The sun was coming up, piercing the giant clouds hovering over the Channel. The rays burned her already grainy eyelids but the light and the break from the musty smelling stale air inside still felt good. Even here, away from the water, she could feel the bracing sting of the salt in her nose and eyes.

"Sure. Maybe. Anyway, don't be an idiot. And tell Robbie to take a break from swapping bullshit stories with his new mates and call me."

Another laugh from Caroline. Change came quickly but it also came slowly. In the course of one afternoon she'd gained a step-sister. After five more years, she'd gained a trusted, and to be quite honest much needed, friend.

"Yep. Will do. Give Flora a _massive_ hug for me, would you please? And tell Celia I'll call her. I will. I just - " Caroline didn't know how to finish the sentence.

"Yeah. My pleasure, on both fronts. No harm in keeping the exact details from her until you're home. Really isn't. She always liked Melanie."

"I suppose." Caroline straightened up. Robbie had come out the door with a group of men headed off shift and he lingered at her side. "Anyway. Robbie's just come outside. Would you like to say hello?"

"Damn right."

Caroline pulled her face into a caution flag and held the mobile out to Robbie.

He winced, then grinned, and took it from her. She paced off toward the end of the block. Still well inside the bustle of the station and the men and women in uniform.

She was chilled to the bone with lack of sleep and worry. She waved at Robbie and headed inside. They'd let her and Robbie crash in the break room while they continued to look for Melanie, and as she made her way past other faces in the lobby that were hollow and anxious she blessed the privacy she'd been able to enjoy.

A new face greeted her at the desk, a young woman who couldn't even be Lawrence's age. She smiled and gave her name. The woman frowned, sifted through some paperwork, and then buzzed her inside the heavy steel door. Privacy or not, Caroline hated the thick, permanent sound of it when it closed behind her.

She opened the break room door on a mess of coffee cups and wrappers from hastily consumed breakfasts. Automatically she set to cleaning it up, staring at a poster about clearing your own mess that apparently went unheeded. The hot water and the routine as she washed the mugs soothed her and she set them on the drainboard one by one.

The room was spotless now and she had little to do but cry, so she did. It felt like she hadn't stopped crying in twelve hours, but this time there was a new urgency and an edge of hysteria to it. She sat down on the dingy and spotted green couch that she'd refused to approach hours ago. Judgement about the current state and history of the sofa gave way to a soft place to land. She laid down, closed her eyes, and talked herself out of turning into a sobbing scene hundreds of miles from home in the nondescript, tidy break room of the Brighton police department.

* * *

It wasn't the first time she kissed Mel that Caroline often dreamed about. As much as she'd pined for it, their first kiss was what a first kiss was. Exhilarating, new, tentative and demanding more without taking it. Instead, it was the first kiss after Caroline realized that she was in love with Melanie that swirled in her thoughts - and she dreamed about it as much when she was awake as when she slept.

* * *

"No Caroline. I'm sorry but you're simply wrong. You are!" Melanie peered around the open door of Caroline's freezer and shook her dark head. They'd been dating for more than six months now, and Caroline's freezer was home to a plethora of ice creams.

"I am not wrong Melanie Wysocki and I'll prove it to you." Caroline looked up at her from her mobile over the rim of her glasses and shook her head with equal resolve.

"Don't you dare look it up Caroline, please. Just take my word for it. Because if you Google it you'll see you're wrong, and then you'll be frustrated and pout about it. I know you will. Please, would you just take my word for it?"

"I won't and you know I won't. Because I'm _right_."

Melanie came through from the kitchen, sat and heaved back against the couch with a great sigh. She crossed her legs and set her bowl of orange cardamom ice cream on her knee. "Well please just don't be mad at me about it."

Caroline looked up from her mobile. "I won't be mad. And I do not pout."

"No, you don't. Never. Sorry." Melanie smiled, shrugged and made an innocent show of licking her spoon.

Caroline narrowed her eyes and returned her attention to Google.

"See now, just what I was saying. Tycho Brahe had a gold nose. Everyone knows that."

"Keep reading."

Caroline scrolled down. She scowled. "Well it only says it's more likely _'believed'_ now to be bronze rather than gold."

"Keep reading."

Caroline tossed her mobile on the coffee table. "As of 2009 I would not have been wrong."

"Yes, but as of today, you are. And that's okay."

"Oh is it okay? Do you give me permission to be wrong?" Caroline arched her eyebrow and Melanie shrugged again.

"Ummmm, would the correct answer here be yes?" Melanie squinted her eyes, grinned, and hugged her bowl of ice cream close, ostensibly waiting for Caroline's volley of good-natured temper to begin.

Instead of retaliating or pouting, Caroline picked up the ice cream, took a bite, and set it on the coffee table next to her mobile and Melanie's well-thumbed copy of _The Sound and the Fury._

Melanie smiled but her eyes followed each of Caroline's deliberate movements.

"The correct answer _is_ yes. And you, Miss Melanie, have a way of being right that drives me batty." Caroline laid a finger on Melanie's nose and then replaced it with a kiss.

"In a good way or a bad way?"

"Why don't I let you decide."

* * *

Caroline gave Melanie two chances to make up her mind that night and another just before dawn the next morning, when Melanie said she still just wasn't _sure._

She woke an hour later and flung an arm over her eyes. The bright spring sunshine was doing its best to blind her and light every corner of her bedroom. It was still early spring and lacking the searing heat of the summer sun, just a comforting blanket of warmth. Caroline drowsed and stretched. Melanie was turned toward her, away from the window and the sunlight and wearing a sleepy frown. She reached out to run a hand across her forehead, sure it would wake her but unable to stop herself.

Melanie did wake, and as she saw Caroline studying her, a smile sweeter and brighter than the spring sunshine lit her face.

"Here." Melanie giggled and held the crème colored sheet over her head and covered them both to block the sun. The light still poured through, but now it cast a soft glow and turned Melanie's skin a dark amber and her eyes a sparkling jade green.

Caroline felt stillness and permanence - and love. For the first time since Kate had gone, she knew she was in love. She blinked back happy tears. The beating of her heart slowed and she was outside of time, consuming Melanie and memorizing the shape of a moment that could never be replicated.

"I love you."

"Oh Caroline." Melanie didn't say anything more and Caroline didn't wait, because she didn't care. She kissed Melanie and she made love to her again, and when they did it was as new and fresh as the first time, but so intimate and intentional that Caroline thought they'd never stop. Who they were was changed forever, and Caroline's world remade all in a sunny instant.

* * *

And _that_ was the moment and the kiss that Caroline constantly dreamed about, awake and asleep. It was what was in her mind when she woke in the cold, harsh LED glare of the Brighton police station, Robbie's hand on her shoulder and holding her mobile out to her.

"It's Melanie."


	18. The First Cut is the Deepest

As she took the phone from Robbie, Sergeant Weixel appeared in the door. "I've just gotten a – " His eyes traveled to the mobile in Caroline's hand. "Melanie's called us – guessing that's her?"

Caroline and Robbie nodded. The officer gave a thumbs up and stepped back out.

"Melanie. Where are you – are you okay? What's happened – why aren't you here?" One of the white-blue LED lights above the couch began to flicker.

It was Caroline's turn to let her tone escalate in concern as the questions flew from her mouth.

Melanie's reply was quiet and disjointed. "I'm so sorry. I don't know at a market near the pier. I saw Mitch out of the corner of my eye when we all came out of the flat. He was slipping off as the police were gathering up Dave, and I just thought, 'they can't lose track of him.' So I followed him."

"That was stupid Melanie, really, really _stupid_."

Caroline stood and began pacing again. Robbie slipped out of the room and she ignored his glance back at her.

"I know it was. But I just – I wanted to take some responsibility for once."

"Oh Melanie." Caroline shook her head. _'I don't even know what to say to her.'_

"I'm sorry. For everything, Caroline."

Caroline still didn't know what to say. Melanie's tone was resigned, and they didn't need to be in the same room to understand what had changed between them - and wonder if it could ever be put right.

"Where are you now? Are you _safe_?"

"I am. I'm in a market just opposite where Mitch's posted up getting breakfast. I suppose he might slip out the back of his, but this is the first time he's stopped moving, and I think he thinks he's in the clear for now."

Caroline closed her eyes and sank back down onto the grimy couch. "I'm glad you're safe Mel. I can't tell you. I think. I just - "

Silence hovered between them on the line.

"As soon as Mitch stopped moving I called the police, and then you. They're on their way now. I'm sorry I didn't call sooner. Again – I'm sorry - for everything Caroline. I think I'm losing you." Melanie paused and Caroline wondered if she were going to continue just as she spoke again. "And I don't want to. I love you, Caroline."

Caroline stared some more at the poster about cleaning up after yourself and it made her want to laugh and cry at the same time. "I know. But I – I don't _know_ , Melanie. We can talk about it when you get here. And you'll be glad to know – at least as of right now Leann is sticking by her commitment to tell all about Nigel. Dave as well. Between them it's not looking good for that asshole." The obscenity flew out of her mouth with hateful ire, and Caroline realized for the first time how very angry she was at the man who'd had a hand in dismantling her life, and so many others.

"Oh shit."

On the other end of the line Caroline heard shuffling. "Melanie – "

"He's come out. He's back moving again."

"Leave it be, Melanie."

"It's just that it – this is the last thing – if they get Mitch, this nightmare is over for me, you see. Almost twenty years of my life I've wondered – if I'd done things right the first time - " More shuffling coming through the line, and now Mel had clearly moved outside. Cars and street sounds filled Caroline's ears.

"Melanie you don't have to do this. Leann's testifying. You've done your part now, you have. Let the police take care of Mitch and Nigel and the rest of it."

"I'm sorry Caroline. I'll call you." The line went dead.

"Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck." Caroline pounded her hands on the table and then just stood in the middle of the room, head bent, staring at the ground. It was all she had left in her.

Robbie poked his head in, and when Caroline didn't respond he made his way up and rested a hand on her shoulder.

"They're almost on them, Caroline. It won't be a minute. They've got her phone, they've got her."

Caroline twirled and pointed her mobile at Robbie, eyes blazing. "It's your lot that's fucked this all up in the first place. How could they not get _both_ of those bloody grubby rogues when they should have?"

"I don't know Caroline. Weixel said the big one, Mitch, was – well it looked like he was sleeping at the back of the transit van when they hauled Dave out. They took care of the one, and next thing they knew he'd slipped out of the back. Same time that Melanie and Leann and the lot came out of the flat. It was dark – there – well, I can't tell you what I don't know."

"Sleeping. The idiot was _sleeping_?"

"Actually, Dave tells it that he took him out of the equation. Apparently they'd brought along some ether, you know, for – " Robbie coughed, and let Caroline fill in the details. "Anyway, Dave said he'd used it on Mitch. Had a sense the man was about to do something stupid and he didn't want to take the chance. Next thing he knows, there's Brighton police."

"Well I hope they handled it properly."

Robbie frowned.

"The ether. I hope they handled it properly. It can be _dangerous_ , you know. Depending on how it's handled, and the type. It's explosive."

"Alright – well, I'm sure – " Robbie trailed off. "Anyway, this Dave guy says he actually wanted Leann to get away at the end of it. Says he was tired of watching Nigel abuse her, was worried for the kid. Sounds like he stepped in more than once to save her skin. Never can tell. Sometimes the good ones hide under rocks."

Caroline had nothing left to say. She didn't care about any of it anymore, really. She wanted to be home. But she wanted to see Mel. She wanted more than that to see the perpetual smile in her eyes that always cheered her. Caroline couldn't help but smile when Mel did, it was a reflex.

She wasn't sure what the magical number was. The number of times she'd made love to Mel, or said 'I love you,' or hugged her after coming home from work, that had done it. But at some point along the line in the last couple months Caroline had woken up with the sense that Mel was _right_. That it is was time. That what she wanted for the rest of her life was Melanie. And from that point on she'd stopped thinking about Mel's life and her troubles separately. Mel's hurt became her hurt, and Mel's anger, rare as it was, hers, and her joy just the same.

These troubles now – as much as she thought of them as Melanie's, that familiar habit hung on. The feeling that Caroline wouldn't be right until Melanie was right. So she couldn't leave without seeing her. _You can't leave without holding her just once more, Caroline._ She couldn't walk out. At least not now.

* * *

Melanie slung her bag over her shoulder and stepped out of the market. She waved at the dark teenager minding the counter, hoping he didn't think she was stealing. She hadn't bought anything. Just lingered. She looked back toward the street again. She was steps behind Mitch on the other side of the road. She felt ridiculous as she pulled her collar up, but she did it just the same. It was daylight now and much harder to avoid Mitch's furtive glances. She kept behind other pedestrians as often as she could and followed him back down toward the boardwalk and the docks.

Following Mitch until now she'd been outside more than inside, and she was shaking from cold almost constantly. The market had been a welcome warm-up that hadn't lasted nearly long enough. And her chill had returned in talking to Caroline, hearing the resignation and fatigue, and most of all the distance in her voice.

They traveled a few more blocks. The water and the Channel were in sight now. The pier, and the carousel and the golden gallopers. Mitch stopped and looked up and down both sides of the street. The shadows on her side weren't long or friendly as she tried to melt into a shallow store front. A dry cleaner that was still closed. If their signs were still accurate, they were quite affordable.

He lingered in the open and lit a cigarette. She couldn't continue forward and if she walked away she might lose her peace of mind for good. She shrank back into the doorway. Why did it have to be so bloody cold and bloody early? She stood still but wanted to stamp her feet and rub her hands to chase out the chill. It wasn't even seven yet. The foot traffic came and went with the lights at the distant corner.

She realized now though that Mitch had already seen her. Probably as soon as they'd set out. As she stood pressed to the wall, he ambled across the street. His eyes were locked on hers with a smile.

The police were on their way – had been on their way – when she'd been at the market. Surely they had to be close?

She stared Mitch down as he approached. He took his time and savored his cigarette as he came toward her. She stood, hands jammed in her pockets and feet planted. Running wouldn't do much good, and she was done turning her back on her problems and fears. The police had to be close. They had to be. It was only minutes to the nearest station.

He stopped in front of her and flung his cigarette to the sidewalk and turned his giant tan work boot to snuff it out. He towered over her, almost half a meter taller than she and probably fifty kilos heavier. His black hair hadn't changed in a decade. Shorter at the top and almost touching the collar of his coat at the back. It was curly and frizzy from the damp of the early morning. He stank like a dumpster at a fish market, which Melanie knew to be accurate because she'd seen him holed up next to one earlier in the evening. Mixed with the fresh and stale cigarette smoke, Melanie couldn't help but cough as her eyes watered.

"Yeah I'm not exactly pleasant right now." He took a half-step closer. "Sorry about that."

"The police are on their way." Melanie did not inch backward. Though she very much wanted to.

"Thank you, Captain Obvious. I woulda had no clue from the way you're standing here." He sneered and gestured to the evaporating space between them.

"Don't you want to get on then?"

"Actually, I don't. Think I got some things to say to them that might make for a better life than crawling into dumpsters and shit-heap run-down tenements every time I see blue lights from now to infinity."

Melanie looked around, hoping to see those blue lights that didn't appear.

Mitch chuckled and eyed her up and down. Clearly unimpressed. "Seems some of us think better of running."

"Do you see me running Mitch? Not anymore. And I'm glad you're turning yourself in."

"Melanie I'm not turning in shit. I'm just trading a little this for that."

The occasional passers-by gave them a wide berth. Two women dressed for the office crossed the street as they neared.

Melanie tilted her head back to look up into his small black eyes. "Well I'm glad for it. You can make a fresh start Mitch. I want that for you."

"You fucking want that for me? Fuck you, Melanie." Mitch fiddled in the pockets of his deep brown coat but didn't pull out his pack of cigarettes. One of the pockets had a hole burned right through it, and the dingy sheepskin collar lifted with the occasional breeze. As he did he fidgeted he smiled at something Melanie couldn't guess.

"You and Nigel – I remember how you were. Like brothers. Before I knew – well – who Nigel was. I wanted better for you then Mitch, and I still do."

"Well ain't it just too bad that I didn't get better."

Finally she saw the reflection of blue lights. She stepped back. Mitch squinted at them and darted out a giant bear claw of a hand and grabbed her arm.

"Nope. We're not done. Not just making the time of day with you waiting for the cops, pleasant as this is."

"The police are here Mitch. It's over."

"Yeah it's over, but we're not done. I was under the radar until you came along again. Had a nice thing going with Richie back in the day, and I was headed for a nice pay day finishing it off with Leann here. So I'm gonna make even on that. And _then_ we're done."

In the blink of an eye he whipped a switchblade out of the pocket of his massive overcoat. In less time than that he flicked it down the side of Melanie's face, eyebrow to chin.

The red blade of the knife clattered on the ground before Melanie even knew he'd moved. It was seconds after that she felt a searing, penetrating ache all along the left side of her face, and then a hot rush of blood.

Mitch took her chin and tilted it up to admire his work. Melanie couldn't see anything but a crimson wash out of her left eye, and she felt like she wanted to sit down. Like she needed to sit down.

"Yep. Now we're done."

Two police cars skidded to a stop in front of them. Mitch held up his hands. He turned and faced the white stone wall next to him, tattered bills for a concert flapping in the wind. He placed his palms on it above his head, and laughed quietly. "Now we're done."


	19. Scar Tissue

"Hullo Greg. And hullo Flora!"

Melanie didn't hug many of her library patrons, but for these two she made an exception. Three months ago she'd returned from Brighton alone, and she'd been alone ever since. Friends like Janet from the library stuck by her. People were too polite and too loving to not to.

But everything in her life now felt as though she were observing it through a pane of plate glass. She heard people. She saw colors. She lived. She felt – but she felt less. Of everything. She lived separated from everyone else. Human connection, real connection, was rare. Her connection to Greg and Flora was still real and true and she drank it like a dying woman drank from an evaporating puddle in the dry savanna.

"How's things?" Greg and Flora came early to story-time every week. They stopped in more often than ever. Meant to be kind, it was almost a cruel thing as it poked at the tender places in her heart when they left. But there was always this moment too. When Flora's face lit and her mouth jumped into a smile at the sight of Mel. Even now – at the sight of this new and terrifying Mel.

Her scar was imposing and she felt it menacing. It ran from her eyebrow to her chin. Fresh and bright and segmenting her face and her life. The pretty before side and the diminished after. She'd only recently returned to the library. The pain, the inflammation, the bruising, the ugly healing after the surgeries had kept her isolated and exhausted.

So had her legal obligations. Face covered in gauze, then later plastered with gel sheets, she'd given deposition after deposition to police and lawyers. She worked almost daily with her own solicitor and still prayed that the arrangements she'd made to avoid her own prosecution remained in place.

Between all the bills she was paying, the money she was sending to Dave to fulfill her promise to him if he helped keep her interests safe, she was just getting by. She'd sold most everything in her apartment. Save the sofa, which served as bed, dining chair, and couch, and a coffee table which served as dining table, desk, and end table.

She wasn't ready to come back and face the world. But she couldn't stay out of it. Days spent on the couch surrounded by piles of her books couldn't last much longer, because if they did she wouldn't. She desperately wanted to return home to Kerala. She desperately wanted to be surrounded by safety and family. But getting on a plane to India wouldn't fix her problems. More than likely she'd end up in jail for fleeing the jurisdiction during an ongoing investigation. And she wanted to testify. She wanted to put things right.

Her life summed up in an equation with one answer. It was return to work now or give up her job and probably her life. She wasn't ready for that.

Melanie didn't answer him. Greg shifted his weight and cleared his throat. They both made a point of examining Flora's examination of the shelves nearby them.

"She's zooming through the stacks these days, isn't she?" Melanie's new smile, her wan smile that felt right for a world of plate-glass feelings, appeared.

"Sure enough. No more on the repetition. It's new, new, new nowadays. Still got her old favorites, but mostly it's one and done."

"A voracious appetite for what feeds her imagination. Of course." Melanie crossed her arms and her smile grew a shade brighter.

"Speaking of appetites. You think more about my offer? Maybe you and Flora and I could all have tea next week?"

"I have and I don't think it's the right thing to do. I don't think – " Melanie brushed her dark hair back from her face. She didn't mind the curtain obscuring her disfigurement, but the wound was still fresh and her thick hair scratched at it. She still wasn't able to wear her glasses and between the itch of the scar and the discomfort of contacts lenses she'd never wanted, her face was a persistent drain on her psyche.

"I don't bloody care what Caroline thinks." Greg's eyes were wide as though he'd shocked himself with the statement. "She's my daughter as well. You make Flora happy and you make her smile, Melanie. I'm not holding some original sin over your head and I'm not pretending we haven't all done something or other we need a little compassion for."

Greg stood with his hands on his hips as he finished his tirade, but as curious eyes wandered over him from other parts of the library he dropped them to his side and lowered his voice. "Good lesson for Flora, actually, if you ask me."

Melanie pursed her lips and put the screws to her own will power. Doing what felt good and what stopped her feeling so lonely had been what started this mess with Caroline in the first place.

Her eyes moved from Flora, to Greg's shoes, then up to his encouraging grin.

"I'm sorry Greg. I just don't think it's a good idea."

His grin disappeared. "It's holidays, Mel. It's not a time to say no to friends."

She put a hand on his arm. "I know."

"You spending Christmas here in Harrogate? With your friend Janet?"

Mel looked back over to Flora and thought about how very hard it would be to keep saying no to Greg's invitations if he persisted.

So she lied. "Yes. Full house over at her place. Lots of good cheer to fill the day." Janet's house would be empty, because her co-worker was headed home to Kilarney next week to stay until the New Year.

Greg's smile returned. "Right. Good then."

The kid's nook was filling with more parents. Only an occasional furtive glance toward Melanie and eyes darting from her scar to Greg's smile. Most kids asked her outright what had happened, and she'd told them that bad man had done it, but that the police had grabbed him right off. She telegraphed "we're all so safe, don't worry," into each blurred out detail.

"You two had better find seats." She smiled at Greg and he nodded. She turned her back and made her rounds to the rest of the families filing it.

* * *

"You said no such thing, mum. At all." Caroline shoved the serving bowl of spaghetti at Celia and met her haughty blue eyes with sharp blue ones. She finished off her second glass of red wine, one she'd poured just as she, Celia, Alan and Flora had sat down to dinner.

"I did too. Said she seemed too good to be true. Too bright to be working as a _children's_ librarian." Celia's lips thinned and she tilted her head side to side. She looked to Alan, who didn't seem to be handing out agreement. "In _Harrogate_." She muttered the name of the town like a dirty word.

"I'm head of school – in _Harrogate_." Caroline stabbed a fork at an uncooperative tomato on her salad plate. "Do you have something to say about that too? Perhaps Manchester or Leeds, or maybe just _London_ might better meet your standards, mum?" Caroline twirled pasta around her fork and stared right through Celia.

"But this is _your home_ , love. And you've done well by yourself. Not that you haven't picked up a few bad habits, here and there."

Caroline bit her tongue against a hot remark about Celia's lingering stare at her empty wine glass. She'd no doubt her mum wasn't just referencing wine. Celia had been finding a million and one reasons to pick Melanie apart since Caroline had returned from Brighton sans relationship weeks ago.

The days between then and now had been lonesome, grey, and unending. But it was just another thing to get through. The hurt and confusion would pass, and Caroline had a life to restore. The ill-fated weekend seemed surreal now - the only reminder of the truth of it being Melanie's persistent absence from Caroline's life.

She had stayed one more day in Brighton before returning home. She'd rushed to Melanie right off when the Brighton police brought her in to casualty. She – and Caroline - had both been in total shock, but Melanie had stabilized with treatment quickly.

Of course they'd done all they could for Mel right off. But her chances of a robust recovery, a shot at a face that would draw discreet glances, rather than outright stares, weren't high. They weren't low either. For a while Mel clung to her eternal optimism.

But her last morning in Brighton, the last time Caroline had seen Mel, it had been after a long, uncomfortable and sleepless night for Mel. Caroline assured and comforted her as well as she could despite any misgivings she might have.

Mel had seen through her. She'd been so unusually quiet that morning. And while Caroline prattled on through the constant mechanical beeping and the antiseptic smell in the room, Melanie had turned the good side of her face to the window. She'd landed in a non-critical care ward on an upper floor. In the distance the English Channel sparkled in autumn sun that had turned brittle.

"I don't care much, Caroline. About what's happened to me. I suppose maybe it all feels like balance, in some way. It's not that I'm angry. It's just - right now - it's the kids."

"Balance – no such – " Caroline had stopped mid-platitude. "What do you mean the kids?"

"I'm a children's librarian Caroline."

Mel turned her big green shining eyes back to Caroline. "It's the kids. Some of them will be fine, they'll be wonderful, actually. But not all of them."

"Children are cruel Melanie. You and I both know that. It's their nature. But as you mentioned it's their nature to be quite _kind_ as well."

"I don't worry about the jests. That's in the open, no one permits that. It's the quiet discomfort they'll feel. The averted eyes and the kids who will stop coming when I return. Or the ones that will never return after their first visit."

"Oh Melanie I'm sure – "

Melanie cut her off. " _You_ might be sure Caroline, but I'm not."

Caroline sat back in the wooden chair she'd pulled up next to the hospital bed. Melanie never cut her off.

Melanie continued to stare at the window. "I'm not sure of anything right now. And I need to be. So if you're not sure about us, and I don't think you are, I'd prefer it if you leave. I know you want to get back home, and you should. I'm in good hands, what can be done will be done. Neither you nor I will make a difference in that."

"But Mel there's no one – I'd hate to – "

Mel cut in again. "I've told you Caroline, I'm much stronger than you've ever given me credit. I can see why, especially now, you'd doubt me. But I don't doubt myself. I'm sorry. That's the way it is though."

"Melanie – " This time Caroline interrupted herself, her thoughts at odds. Melanie looked back toward the window. Caroline looked down and picked at the fringe of her sky blue scarf. "I do love you, Mel."

"I know. And Caroline I love you so much – " Melanie tapered off. She still wasn't looking at Caroline. "I couldn't stop myself from loving you. I tried, really I did. But this is what's happened, despite my falling in love with you over and over again every day. It's stayed that way, at least for my part. But we don't know if that's enough, do we?"

"I suppose not."

Flora dropped her fork on the hardwood floor and the clang brought Caroline back to the here and now. As it turned out, love had not been enough for her and Melanie. Caroline had called and left messages with Mel twice, wishing her well but her tone distant and halting. They had not seen each other and they had not spoken.

At least Flora had stopped asking when Mel was going to come back for a sleepover. Caroline turned her frustration back at Celia.

"You just – mum. How do you _do_ it? Whatever it is I happen to be suffering you can't help but twist the knife, _can_ you?" Caroline poked her fork at her mother. "Can't you for _once_ find it in yourself to offer just an ounce of comfort to someone when they need it?"

Celia huffed and sat back. "It's not just my job to offer comfort, Caroline. It's my job to keep you safe, and smart about the choices you make, you know."

"I'm fifty-two years old mother. I'm comfortable taking responsibility for my own choices, thank you very much."

"Mmmmmm. Well that's just fine love. Seems though that this's been one of your worst, hasn't it? I mean, you sent John packing with not so much as a second chance, and here you are mooning over a woman who lead you right down the primrose path." Celia didn't look up at Caroline. "Told you a whopper, didn't she? And you're thinking about forgiving her. I can see it written all over your face."

Caroline sat back in her own chair as angry, frustrated tears surfaced. She pulled at her napkin and looked off toward the garden. Winter had set in and the trees were bare and the skies were grey.

Celia pushed her food around her plate and opened her mouth again. This time Alan laid a hand on her wrist and shook his head, a wordless gesture that echoed kindness against the off-beat thumping walls of Caroline's heart.

His own blue eyes were watery, but with age. They shone misty and brilliant against the cranberry red of his cardigan. Caroline remembered again how he was a blessing in her life – and her mum's. He'd dulled the edges of anger for both of them.

She looked back over to Flora. Humming and eating her peas one by one, eyes traveling back and forth as the adults played out a dinner table drama of familiar pacing.

There weren't easy answers to her many, many questions. Melanie had become an emotional and moral morass. Full of what felt like choices to Caroline. What she could accept and what she couldn't. Was it acceptable that Melanie chose not to work with the police so many years ago? To take matters with Richie into her own hands? All the years Nigel spent profiting from ruined lives. How much responsibility for that rested on Melanie? And if Caroline accepted her back into her life, how much then rested on her?

Celia and Caroline's stony silence filled the house. Flora laid off the humming, but she and Alan had begun making faces at each other. Celia's neck bent and attention on her dinner, Caroline's studied the top of her mum's head. So many years ago she'd been inspired by Celia's newfound happiness. Inspired to chase and find and accept love in ways she'd never dreamed.

Today she resented it. Today, she resented everything.


	20. Memories of You

_"I'll start with… is it moose tracks?"_

Mel knelt down nose to nose with Flora, quizzical expressions on both their faces. Outside, freezing rain pelted the steamy windows of the ice cream shop, but apparently the cold and damp had little effect on either of the two's desire for a frozen pre-tea treat.

"Ewwwwww. No peanuts, right mum?" Flora flashed up an expectant look up at Caroline, who nodded her serious affirmation.

"That's right Flora." Caroline's crossed arms and pursed lips belied the inner mirth dancing through her heart, reflected in the twinkling holiday lights all along the street outside. She could watch this game all day. Something told her Mel was zeroing in though, and it wouldn't last much longer. In fact, she wondered if Melanie were simply extending the exchange for her and Flora's enjoyment. The more time she spent with Mel the more she admired her keen mind.

Flora giggled and grinned. "Try again Melly." Her tiny voice was firm and directive.

Mel touched her own nose, then Flora's. "Is it peppermint candy cane?"

Flora's face twisted into a tortured grimace. "Yuuuuck peppermint."

Mel paused and narrowed her eyes. Flora narrowed hers as well and the stare down commenced.

"Ah. Yes. Here we go. I'll bet it's chocolate chip cookie dough."

Caroline laughed as Flora squealed and her nose crinkled.

It was their first ever outing with Mel, Caroline test-driving the brand new combination and what the three of them together might feel like. Flora of course already had her own starry eyes over the robust personality and liveliness of Harrogate's favorite librarian, but Caroline always sought the proof in the pudding for herself.

So far so good. The destination hadn't even been a discussion once ice cream was put on the table. With rapturous awe Melanie pronounced Vanilli's the superior and only option. Caroline had never been, but Mel swore they made the best black raspberry ice cream she'd ever tasted.

"Give Mel her prize Flora – she was right in three guesses."

Flora bounced up and down on her toes and offered an exploding fist bump. Mel more than likely got a good spray when Flora made the accompanying rocket sound, but she seemed unfazed as she stood. She giggled herself and raised her shoulders in an 'I suppose I am that good' gesture.

Caroline's blue eyes sparkled and now she favored Mel with a merry challenge of her own. "Three guesses as promised. Well done. But I'll bet you can't guess _my_ favorite flavor, Miss Melanie."

"Same prize on offer? Exploding fist bump?" Mel tilted her head to the side. "It's only fair."

"I can probably come up with a better prize. But why don't we brainstorm that later?"

Flora leaned into Mel, whose hand wandered absently on to her head. Caroline apparently had captured her full attention – which had been entirely the point.

Melanie's lips twitched upward. "Okay. You've got me motivated. Not a guess to spare."

Now Caroline received a prize of her own that she'd not anticipated as Mel's dark green eyes drilled right into hers. They weren't quite to the lingering romantic gazing part of the relationship, and Caroline luxuriated in the opportunity to stare openly right back. Mel's eyes flicked back and forth between Caroline's, searching and analyzing.

And while Caroline started to become quite distracted and unfocused on the question at hand, Mel didn't seem sidetracked in the least.

"Let's see. Vanilla is the most popular flavor ice cream - but you don't seem one to follow the crowd. Chocolate is too predictable. Strawberry is too sweet - and I can't see you eating anything that shade of pink."

After another pause much too short for Caroline, the spell was broken. Melanie's serious concentration transformed into a beaming smile and her pupils contracted revealing bright green triumph.

Mel put her hands on her hips. "You'd want it all, wouldn't you Caroline Dawson? I'll just bet it's vanilla chocolate chip. Straightforward and the best of both worlds."

Flora giggled and twisted in delight. Caroline let out a bark of an amused and amazed laugh.

"Don't miss a trick then, Melanie Wysocki. Hole in one." Caroline lifted an eyebrow. She wasn't used to being bested – but in this case she didn't find the feeling unpleasant. Very much the opposite.

Her heart skipped a beat as Mel flashed her a toothy grin and turned her attention back to Flora. "Now that we've established everyone's favorite, what say we mix it up?"

"But what's yours Melly?" Flora's big brown eyes grew bigger.

Mel widened her own to match. "You could try guessing, but since I don't have one in particular that wouldn't be much fun, would it? I love them all. Don't suppose I've tried a variety yet I wouldn't call a favorite."

The afternoon rolled on in good cheer. As ice creams runs go, it was a success all the way around and one repeated on the regular. So much so that when they went to order the servers would merely ask the merry trio if they wanted the usual – save Mel who always selected a new option.

Occasionally Flora stuck on wanting rainbow sprinkles or chocolate jimmies. To her satisfaction and Caroline's, Melanie was always at the ready to help her solve her dilemma.

* * *

A year later and what felt like an ocean separating her life now from the one in the memory, Caroline lingered on the sidewalk outside Vanilli's. Big bright-pink bordered plate glass windows with their familiar condensation. Warm yellow glow inside and wet, cold grey day outside. It wasn't particularly on the way to anywhere except the library, but Caroline had somehow convinced herself the route practical, as she also convinced herself she preferred the Sainsbury's nearby to the Waitrose nearer her home.

Today the shop was filled with mums and dads and kids. It had taken a while, but in time Caroline had come to enjoy being the lesbian couple there. The non-traditional 'family' in a sea of sameness. Mel's inability to be ruffled by anything, even curious stares, had started to wear off on her.

Caroline tugged at her salmon-colored scarf and pulled her coat tighter around her shoulders and bustled on. The shop was in fact just a short walk to the library. Even on a gloomy day like this she suspected Mel might run out on break for a quick treat. The thought they might run into each other angered, terrified, and comforted her.

As she approached the Sainsbury's her wishes and her fears collided as she spotted Mel down the block, head down and hair covering her face, walking in her direction.

She stood straight, put her shoulders back, and kept moving forward. She'd not seen Mel since that morning in Brighton. Greg had brought her up here and there, mentioned how she'd been getting on, how she'd been healing. Caroline always answered him in clipped tones and the conversations never lasted long.

Already she almost had a hard time recognizing her ex-girlfriend. Certainly she was thinner. Her thick rust-colored wool sweater hung shapeless on a flatter frame. It didn't become her. And the woman Caroline had loved didn't stare at the pavement, she took in the world with curious shining eyes. She didn't brush her hair over her face, she brushed it back to better take in her surroundings.

Nervous, fidgety, and with little idea what Mel might be greeting her, Caroline shoved her hands into the pockets of her camel hair overcoat and stopped where the other woman couldn't help but run right into her.


	21. Just Like a Pill

Melanie looked up as she neared the Sainsbury's. She'd run out of peppermint tea and it was one of the daily indulgences she couldn't live without at the holidays. Ice cream and coffee treats weren't in the budget. But as soon as the green Twinings box hit the rubbish bin it was back on the list.

The day had started sunny and mild, but then cooled. She hadn't checked the weather that morning and her mind kept showing her pictures of her warm winter coat still hung in the closet in her flat. She rubbed her hands together and tucked them under her arms.

Then she saw Caroline. Sensible, perfect Caroline. Shining blonde hair at just the right length, half-up covering her ears but still somehow formal. Her just-right body perfectly wrapped. Just the right color scarf to match her lipstick. Glistening lips competing with and yet still complimenting ice blue eyes. Lined black gloves peaking from the pockets of her well-fitting coat in just the right shade for the season. Navy slacks breaking at her ankles to preview the navy heels that were, of course, just the right height to be practical and sexy all at the same time.

Mel stopped her hand from darting up to her cheek and her newest feature that wasn't in any way just right.

Her shock and joy and discomfort at seeing Caroline turned to anger when she saw the expression that ruined the entire façade for Melanie.

Pity. Caroline's eyes shone with pity and it disgusted Mel. She'd seen plenty of it from others over the last few months and taken it in stride. It was an incarnation of compassion she could abide from strangers. But not from Caroline.

She stopped short right in front of the other woman and gazed up at her. "Don't you look at me like that Caroline. After – everything. Don't you dare look at me like that."

She watched pity evaporate to be followed by surprise and then anger right back at her.

"Yes hullo to you too, Melanie. It's nice to see you." Caroline shifted her weight to one hip, pulled her hands from her pockets and crossed her arms over her chest.

It was mid-afternoon and there was only an occasional passer-by to cast furtive glances at the admittedly odd pair of women and their tense stand-off outside the grocer. It was unlike Caroline to make a scene in public and Melanie banked on that as she willed their encounter to be over sooner rather than later.

"Perhaps. Maybe not. I don't know if it is or not - really nice to see me - and so let's just keep it at this, and go on about our own business." Melanie looked at the store front, the cars passing, the ground. Anywhere but at Caroline.

It wasn't what Melanie wanted at all, to be going on about her business without Caroline and love. But nothing in her life was appealing to the other woman right now. She was sure of that. Broke, disfigured and untrustworthy would sum up Caroline's assessment. And while her own was a little bit more generous she couldn't disagree completely.

Either way, right now she was vulnerable in ways she'd never let the other woman see. Not anymore. She couldn't dwell on what was broken. More than Caroline's disapproval, this was why she kept Greg and Flora at arm's length. There was no point torturing herself by dangling just out of reach the life she wanted and couldn't have. All the years of waiting and wanting, come to this. Whatever else she deserved, this wasn't it.

* * *

Caroline reeled at Mel's reaction to seeing her. She didn't know what she'd hoped for, exactly, but this wasn't it at all.

Doubt or surprise maybe - they would have made sense and would have fit. But again she realized this Mel was a woman very different from the one she and Flora had met for ice cream so many months ago.

Beside them the doors to the market slid open and closed. Customers with trolleys and bags made their way around them. Caroline hated how exposed they were and how exposed she felt. She'd wanted to see Mel and she hadn't known how to work it the best way. Clearly this wasn't it.

"I _want_ to go on about my business, Melanie, but I'm having a little trouble with that." Caroline let a plea creep into her voice and expression as she tried to chip away at the brick wall Mel had so quickly thrown up.

Apparently she'd made yet another mistake.

"Are you? I can't imagine why. You've landed right back on your feet, haven't you? A little dust to be swept from your shoulders but right as rain in the end, as always, yes? Sorry you missed a step along the way." Melanie turned her face to the traffic, to the perfect side and the profile Caroline so admired.

The scar was jarring. Not just to Caroline's memory of Melanie's smooth, round, contoured face but likely to anyone who saw her. She knew it would fade over time, but right now it was a nasty, blinding reminder of everything that had transpired in Brighton and the years leading up to the fateful weekend.

Caroline's temper flared with her frustration. She wanted Mel to look at her. She wanted to look at Mel. The other woman kept turning, kept moving and brushing at her hair.

She didn't think and put a hand up. First to Melanie's arm and then to her chin. She turned Melanie's face to hers and then dropped her hand back to her waist.

Melanie glared through Caroline but she didn't turn away this time. "Take a good look then, Caroline, if you want. Get yourself a good assessment of the price I've paid. Decide if it might be enough for you." Melanie's chin jutted into the air.

Caroline's mouth opened and closed. But she did look. And she did assess. And she still didn't know what to think or how she felt. She wanted Melanie back, but she didn't know how to open that door. Within herself, and clearly not within Melanie.

"Right. What I thought." Melanie looked up and sniffed. Tears stood in her eyes when she looked back down again. "So as I said, maybe we just ought to go on about our lives. I'm still in purgatory for you, aren't I? That's no way to live. Not for me, not for you. If you like you can have this count as closure for you, Caroline. Likely the last little bit you need to be shut of all this mess completely. Likely what you were looking for as you skulked about the block here week after week."

Bloody hell. She thought she'd stopped underestimating Melanie.

"I wanted to _see_ you Melanie. That's all. I wanted to and I needed to. I _miss_ you." Caroline shook her head. Watching Melanie cry provoked a sympathetic reaction. She pulled a Kleenex from her pocket and dabbed at her eyes.

"I miss you too, Caroline. But as we talked about in that awful hospital room where you broke my heart, missing and love aren't always enough. Be nice if life were like a fairy tale, like a book. But it's not, is it? Not at all. Not always closure and happy endings." Melanie turned and took a step toward the open market doors. "Not like that at all. So I wish you and Flora so much happiness. I really, really do. Find happiness Caroline, I want that for you. And for myself."

It was all going so wrong. Caroline had lost control of the moment and the conversation. She didn't even have time to savor it as Melanie suddenly put her arms around Caroline and squeezed, a tight firm hug that felt so final only after Mel stepped away and rushed into the market.

She stood flat footed on the sidewalk, hands once again thrust into her pockets and real tears now filling her eyes and rolling down her face. _You idiot. How many times are you going to repeat this particular scenario with the women in your life?_


	22. Crucify Your Mind Origin of Love

"Do you make a habit of taking in strays on Christmas Eve?" Melanie polished the last of her lasagna with gusto and frowned inside that she hadn't saved any of her roll to finish the red sauce taunting her from the edges of her plate.

She had indeed lied to Greg – with her friend Janet from the library in Kilarney with family for the holiday she'd resigned herself to a night of solo Chinese take-away and a podcast. But fate had stepped in and rescued her. She found it so often did, if she were open to it. And belief that she wasn't in control of every little thing that might happen to her kept Melanie smiling, even when the night was pitch black. Because you never really knew when a light would flip on.

"No. But I do hate to see a cute puppy wandering the streets at the holiday." The woman opposite her with very kind brown eyes gave a crooked grin and the light in Melanie's night shone all the clearer.

"Wandering the streets Jane? Hardly. I like to think that I walk with a purpose, even when it's not clear to anyone else."

"Sure, Melanie. But come on - you are in a world of your own here and there, as much as I can tell from what I've seen of you." Jane finished her own plate with a massive bite and barely got the sentence out around it.

Melanie shrugged. "Your powers of observation are sharp enough and that's an accurate deduction. I'd even say you could give me a run for the money. Fits though. After all, you are a detective."

Jane frowned and then smiled. "Thank you. I'm always reminding people of that fact. Don't know why it's always slipping their minds."

"Not much gets past me, so you're safe there." Melanie leaned in across the table toward Jane and scrawled with a finger on the red and white check wax table cloth. "Jane Hayden, philanthropist and detective."

Jane snorted out a laugh and Melanie joined her. It felt very, very good to laugh along with someone. Jane had become the bright spot of the time she'd spent in Harrogate Metro PD. She'd started as one of the detectives assigned to her case - who was quickly shuffled off the less and less the police discovered about Melanie's past. After that the two had struck up a friendship so easy and simple it seemed effortless.

"Jokes aside though, thank you Jane. These past months, the holidays. It was all getting a little – rough."

"Sure it was. I can imagine. Carrying around that little beauty -" Jane waved a hand at Melanie's face "- and getting the passive-aggressive brush from the love of your life. Not enough coin to rub together to drink your troubles away? Sounds like the plot of a bad romance novel."

Jane stood to clear the table and Melanie picked up her own plate. Jane waved her off and returned from the small adjacent kitchen with what remained in the wine bottle. It wasn't what Caroline poured, but it had been long enough from having any wine at all that Melanie enjoyed every sip.

Melanie smiled up as Jane stood over her to refill her glass. "That thought had crossed my mind. I suppose the ending's perfect then, the disgraced and scorned lover returning to her far-off, exotic home."

"So you've made up your mind to return to India when everything's sorted, legally?" Jane scowled. "I'll be sad to see you go. I think you and I could be great friends, Melanie. If you ever recovered your senses and swore off Manchester United for good. Harrogate AFC's all you need in this world."

"Football's a boring sport and so I've picked a boring team to back."

"It's Christmas Eve so I'll let that slip." Jane shook her finger at Melanie.

"But yes. God willing I'll be home this time next year. And you're kind of letting a lot of things slip when it comes to me, aren't you?" Melanie watched Jane and her lack of reaction to what she'd intended as a leading question. "Considering my background, you know." She was curious about how the other woman could possibly overlook the reason they'd met at all.

"I spend all day with people from all kinds of backgrounds. Where you came from, you know that's not always the best indication of who you are. Or where you might be going." Jane shrugged. "What I can tell right off are good people. And I think you're good people, Melanie."

"Keep telling me that Jane, and I'll start to believe you."

Jane gave a two-fingered salute. "Will-do. That's what friends are for." She raised her glass and Melanie met her across the table with her own, a lyrical clink sounding over the soft Christmas carols playing in the background.

* * *

"You – you've got – just hold on – " Gillian licked her thumb and reached over to swipe it across Caroline's cheek. "A little self-pity stuck there. Think I got it all."

"Oh fuck you Gillian." Caroline swatted at her hand. She supposed she deserved it. The pair sat in Caroline's living room in a post-Christmas Eve dinner haze, Robbie the bear upstairs reading to Flora and the elder Buttershaws retired to the carriage house long ago for a nap. Evening was just setting in and the burgeoning glow of the colorful holiday lights inside and out warmed the chilly conversation.

"Nah. I'm not the one here's fucked. That'd be you, by your own self, once again." Gillian offered a crooked grin as she grabbed her 'NO L' tea mug from the coffee table and plunked next to Caroline on the sofa. "Can't manage to see things from any perspective but your own."

The good-humored delivery softened the blow for Caroline but not by much. Caroline had turned moody with the retreat of the rest of the family and resumed her least favorite but currently most consistent past-time of picking at the tender vacancy her break-up with Melanie had left.

Gillian continued to pile on. "I mean, seriously, Caroline. What's your problem? Do you have to be such a bloody bitch absolutely _all_ the time?"

"And what about any of what I've told you makes _me_ the bitch? _Seriously_ Gillian. You'll look for any way to make me wrong in a situation." Caroline bobbed her tea bag up and down and didn't feel like making eye contact.

Gillian tucked her feet up under her. "And you'll look for any way to make yourself right, won't you? But that's not gotten you very far, being right. What exactly is it that bugs you the most Caroline? I can think of a lot of things Mel did wrong. Plenty. But I get the sense what's bugging you isn't the wrongs. It's she surprised you."

"Trust isn't built on _surprises_ , Gillian. And you know that's what I'd built with her - trust. That's what's needed to make a relationship work. There can't be lies between people, the way Mel put them between us."

Gillian ran a thumb over the rim of her mug and cast her gaze toward the stairs where occasionally they heard Robbie making grumbling bear noises for Flora. "Lots of ways to build trust, Caroline."

"There are plenty of ways to destroy it too, aren't there?" Caroline's eyebrows shot up. She refused to be lectured about truth and lies by Gillian.

"Phhht." Gillian stuck up two fingers and a nasty face. "This time fuck _you_. You brought all this up. Again." Gillian stood and walked into the kitchen. Her mug rapped sharply against the sink when she put it down.

"I'm sorry - I am. I didn't mean that – that way. I'm just _lost_ here." Caroline studied the dredges of the red wine in her glass.

Gillian wandered back to the living room and stood over Caroline, hand on her hip that was cocked to one side. "Just when would have been the right time for Mel to tell you everything, Caroline? Telling something like that. There's no right way. No way you can figure that won't – that won't land things exactly the way they are between you and her right now."

"I suppose not."

"Nah. There's not. So why don't you skip that part of your judgement for a brief second?"

" _Then_ what, Gillian? Skip it for what? So I can move on to her _murdering_ her drug-dealing husband and fleeing the country?"

Gillian shook her head back and forth, fast. Now her tone wasn't quiet. The sleeve of her plaid flannel was up over her balled fist as she waved it back and forth. "She shoulda gotten a nice clean divorce then? Told him, 'yeah I know all your dirty secrets and I'm just gonna take half what we've got, move to another town.' Sure. Yah. Bet that would have gone over great. No way he'd just up and bump _her_ off. Woulda turned out well for everyone, that strategy."

Caroline didn't have a response. Gillian sat back down and reached across the sofa with her sleeved hand. Caroline took it as Gillian spoke.

"You've made choices about trusting before, Caroline. Seems you and me, we've got something good, despite what all I've done. You made a choice about that, that's the way we've got where we are. Despite my many flaws. I've fucked up plenty good plenty of times, Caroline. And here we are."

Caroline squeezed Gillian's hand. She vacillated between affection and condescension. "But you and I - we're not married or shagging, are we?"

Gillian took her hand back and gave a dull chuckle. "Nah. Can't think of a bigger disaster than that'd be." She ran her hand under her chin. "Question's still there though. You going to keep repeating yourself like this?"

' _That's not the real question, is it? How many times you'll keep doing this. The real question is why you're doing it, Caroline. The repetition of your martyrdom, partners who fail you or you find a reason to dismiss as unworthy. And isn't that just the definition of insanity? Doing the same thing over and over and expecting a different outcome.'_

"Yes. No. I don't _know_."

"Mmmmm. Well. Get back to me when you do. And be sure to ring Mel up too. If she's still interested, that is." Gillian's eyebrows crept upward and her mouth formed a thin, skeptical line.

"Such a help you are Gillian. Really." Caroline finished her wine and reached to the low table for the bottle to refill the glass. She'd drunk most of it herself and wasn't sure if she should be proud or worried about that.

"I must be, because you keep turning up at my door step."

Caroline had been over to Halifax most weekends in December. She'd been unhappy in a house that echoed with Flora's laughter and often no one else but her to hear it. "I suppose I do." She rested her chin in her hand. "I don't know if I'm better off for whining at you for days on end. But you are right about sorting my shit."

"Big sisters are most always right."

"Oh not that again."

Caroline huffed and stood. It was past time to clear the pots and pans and plates glaring at her from the table and the kitchen.

Gillian trailed behind her collecting discarded glasses and remnants of pie. "Tell me when you've sorted yourself, yah? I've a bet with Robbie on how long it'll take you to get back on the horse, so to speak."

"Oh you really are beyond belief." Caroline ripped the kitchen towel from her shoulder and snapped it at Gillian, landing a cracking blow on her hip.

Gillian's mouth dropped and she protested with a high-pitched "oy!"

"Mum always told me it had to be all the time I spent in the girls' locker rooms after field hockey that accounts for 'the way I turned out.'" Caroline stuck her tongue out and Gillian did the same right back.

"You tell Celia from me she's right on that."

"Of course I am. Tell me I'm right about what then?" Celia shook herself and plucked at her head reshaping her hair as she wandered in from the carriage house.

"You and Alan sleep off all that lamb already?" Caroline called to her mum over her shoulder as she scrubbed at the roasting pan.

"He's still down for the count. Just caught a wink myself." Celia reached into the cupboard and pulled down a box of chamomile tea.

Caroline grabbed the teapot and filled it. The kitchen was quiet and still, minus the snap, hiss and swish as Caroline lit the burner.

"What's so scandalous, that I've managed to bring such a sudden halt to the conversation? Some fresh new outrage I'm embroiled in and no one's been nice enough to tell me?"

"Oh mum." Caroline blew up through her bangs as she returned to the brillo and the roasting pan.

"Nothing fresh Celia. Just rehashing our Caroline's recent heart break."

"Hmph." Celia pulled the kettle as it whistled and filled her 'Fleece Navidad' mug, which sported a fluffy sheep wearing a Santa cap. "No one to blame on that front but yourself, love."

Caroline dropped the pan with a clang and whirled to face her mother at the other end of the counter top loaded with dishes. She couldn't help the ear-splitting pitch of her tone as she responded. Could her mother find it in her heart to be kind at least on Christmas Eve?

"Now _that's_ a change of tune. And thank you very much, by the way." Only last month Celia had been on at her at about what a horrible partner Mel had been in the first place.

Celia sipped her tea, winced, and blew across the surface. "It's only that I got to thinking. About how sensible you were when – everything – surfaced about Gary. You know. Alan's - indiscretion. You gave me proper advice and I've you to thank for how happy we've stayed. Even now."

" _Excuse_ me?" Caroline looked to Gillian for support, who only shrugged her shoulders, offering nothing but a cautionary 'don't drag me into this' frown. "Proper advice?"

"You were so level-headed. Reminded me what a long time ago it had been, how we can't know everything about everyone's past. And mostly reminded me of the fact that he's a good man who happened to make a mistake. Imagine if I'd lost Alan over a mistake he'd made decades ago." Celia shook her head and took a sip of tea.

Caroline leaned back against the sink with her jaw on the floor and tears building in her eyes. " _Now_ , mum. Now you come out with this. Now you say I ought to have forgiven her?" Caroline paced up to Celia and then back to the sink. " _Now_. When it's all gone to shit and months have passed and I've just gotten my feet back under me."

"Well it's not my place to meddle, Caroline - spout my opinion off all of the time. We only talked about it that once at dinner. You got so cross. And you didn't ask after that, so I didn't bring it up."

"Since _when_ do you not bring things _up_?"

"I don't stick my nose in. And there's no need to raise your voice. It's the holidays. Try to be civil, Caroline."

"Try to be civil?"

Celia shrugged over at Gillian. "Have I developed an echo?"

Gillian shrugged back and slunk over next to Caroline and resumed the work on the dinner dishes.

"Well this has just been a wonderful chat, mother. What a Christmas blessing your constant love and support has been."

"Now you're just being rude. And it's been a very pleasant night up until now. So if you'll excuse me I'm off to warmer climes to see what Mr. Buttershaw might be up to."

"Good. No need to check back." Caroline waved her off and turned next to Gillian at the sink with a final yell over her shoulder. "Happy Christmas to you too!"

Behind them the door to the garden clicked shut.

They worked in silence on the pile of leftovers and dirty plates. Midway Robbie snuck through the doorway from the stairs and gave a nod as Gillian waved him off into the living room. No doubt he'd heard the commotion.

The final pot tucked away, Caroline turned, worrying a dishtowel between her warm, reddened hands and sighed. "I can't wait until term starts." The return to work would be a blessed relief. Though she had enjoyed binge watching Dr. Who into the early morning hours after Flora went down. It reminded her of Kate. And falling asleep on the couch was far preferable to falling asleep in an empty bed.

"Speaking of school, how's that new Board Chair you're always moaning about. Made peace with her yet?" Gillian's eyes stayed on Caroline's as she responded.

"I haven't. She's still an absolute _beast_. But Beverley's set us up for lunch in the New Year and we're supposed to hash it all out." She had no idea what Eleanor Strathclyde had in mind to 'hash out' and _why_ Beverley had conceded to her demands to be scheduled so soon after the holidays, but she wasn't looking forward to it in the least.

Gillian shrugged. "Beverley seems right about lots of things, whenever you mention her."

"Hmmm. Well. We'll see." Caroline tossed the dishtowel on the counter. "I'm off to kiss Flora and dream of sugar-plum fairies stealing mum away in the night."

"Robbie and me'll head back then." Gillian tilted her head toward the snoring bulk of her husband sprawled across Caroline's couch. One foot on the floor, one hand plastered to the wall and the other arm across his face. "Raff and Ellie and 'Lam will be home in the morning. Want to be there when they arrive."

"Oh of course you do. I can't wait to see William and Lawrence tomorrow." Caroline leaned forward and wrapped an arm around Gillian, who smiled with a chuff and hugged her back.

Gillian waved at her and went over to kick Robbie in the foot with a laugh and a smile.

Caroline shook down her hair and pulled her red cardigan tighter around her. She watched her step sister roust the sleeping giant on the sofa who grumbled and stomped as a giant should as he woke. Despite her own loneliness, she felt a happiness in her heart for the pair and the familiar ease of the scene.

A final hug for Gillian and a kiss on the cheek for Robbie sent them off into the dark.

She could have gone through New Year without Celia's ill-timed advice. But between her mother's poorly delivered care and Gillian's blunt observations, part of her stilled in understanding the role she'd played in the demise of her relationship with Melanie. A glimmer of hope flared that the personal failures she'd played out in repetition wouldn't be stuck on repeat. Even Celia had found true love after all. Perhaps one day she wouldn't be endlessly shoveling shit from the stables.

She closed her eyes and leaned back on the door, then walked through the house turning off lights. She left on the rainbows of holiday strands to glow overhead. She sat on the sofa and let the colors wash over her. The promise and hope of the season trickling through the cracks of her loneliness. With the occasional pop from the rafters, thump from the dishwasher, or tap from the branches of a tree on the window, her house settled and hummed and sighed around her.

Despite it all, despite the way it ended with Melanie, Caroline was glad to have had her in her life. When they'd met the weight of loss had been so heavy, omnipresent and clinging to her like a film. Dull and clouding everything she saw. Along with the nagging fear that Kate had been her one shot at a second chance. No matter how it ended, Melanie had scrubbed away that fear. Caroline was fresher, clearer, and brighter for basking even for a while in the optimism that defined Melanie.

Change happened. Pain happened. And then you moved on. It was time for Caroline to keep moving on.

She opened her eyes wide and stared up toward the stairs and pictured a sleeping Flora. There was still plenty of love to go around on Christmas Eve at Conway Drive. It was past time to start enjoying it again.

* * *

 ** _The End_**

* * *

RSC A/N:  
Thank you to Nola for riding shot gun on the journey, reading the map, providing the right words at the right time, ideas, insight and inspiration and helping me try my hand at something new. There's a first time for everything and I don't know that either of us had attempted a mystery-style piece, such as it is. Hats off to you, patient, intrepid co-pilot.

Thank you to everyone who took a minute to read the tale as well. It didn't start as an alternate timeline tie-in with the Imagined series, but what can I say. I think I'm a one true love kinda gal. If you're curious, this is not at all meant to dovetail in as a prequel. Rather it explores the notion that for Caroline, all roads lead to Eleanor.

Best of the festive season to everyone. I'm reminded so keenly in these days that each of us is indeed the origin of love. No matter its form, flaws, perfection or purpose.

"Let's push these stories aside  
You know the origin is you -  
From the air I breathe to the love I need  
Only thing I know, you're the origin of love."


End file.
